Half Breed - The Vampire and The God - CD
by Dnachanger
Summary: Second in The Vampire and The God series: A thief captured and forced to live as a slave. A young orc, tying to stop his tribe falling apart. A warrior in a foreign land fighting a war she does not fully understand.
1. Prologue - New Beginnings

Prologue – New Beginnings

 **Elgar**

206 4th era.

The jolt of the rickety carriage going over another bump woke Elgar from his dreamless sleep. He opened his eyes but the carriage was too dark for him to make out anything. The only noises he could hear were the steady beat of the horses' hooves clinking against the cobble road outside, the heavy breathing of ten sleeping men and the clank of the chains that bound them.

He slowly sat up, trying to make as little noise as possible. His legs complained about the stiffness in this thighs and his torso protested from all the bruises. It was good thing that he couldn't see anything, otherwise he would have felt nausea at the sight of his yellow and purple skin. His whole body shivered from a strong, cold blast of wind. His eyes flickered up to the minute hole that let in air for the prisoners. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he realised that there was a weak shaft of moonlight streaking out of the hole in a beam of sickly white light. The light hit the wall close to his head.

He twisted slightly, allowing him to see the moon. The white disc covered the entire hole leaving nothing but the weak lunar light. He sat entranced by its light, thinking out what it must be like to hang in the sky like that, free from chains that could bind you, soaring far above. Suddenly someone near him started coughing loudly.

His head snapped round to see the man's entire body convulsing with every cough. It was a while before Elgar recognised him. His name was Trengil, Elgar's father had had dealings with him in the past. He was at least two decades out of his prime, but his hair had only one or two streaks of grey, making him look younger. Even so his body was getting weaker.

Elgar had only been alive for thirteen years, but leaving as a thief had shown him the slums of cities where diseases ran rampant. This was an example of the same disease he had seen on hundreds of other men and women. Few had been able to laugh about it after. As the body got older, the lungs became corrupted, making breathing harder.

Trengil's body was shaking so much that Elgar reached over and tried to hold him down. Even though the nord was slowly dying, he was still a lot stronger than Elgar: he began to feel a slight burn build in his arms. Elgar started to hum a quiet lullaby, in an attempt to soothe both Trengil and his sore muscles.

It was a slow tune that only had ten notes, repeated over and over. It was melody he had learnt somewhere, one that he seemed to always of known. He felt Trengil convulsions become gradually weaker, until Elgar could finally let go, what felt like half of an hour later.

He sat back and looked round. It seemed that two of the men had woken and now were sitting starring into the darkness, their eyes devoid of any emotion. He'd seen those eyes before; they were the eyes of men sent to the block. Resignation and indifference.

He could feel a slight sheen of sweat over his fore head, and his armpits were soaked. It wasn't like he was unfit, growing up on the streets made him able to last without food for days at a time, but he was definitely weaker than most, and especially weaker than his fellow nords. He had met nine year old bosmer girls with more upper body muscle definition.

His long black hair was plastered on his forehead, with the ends of his fringe hanging over his green eyes. Just another thing making him different. When people thought of a young nord man they expected a big barrel-chested, blonde, blue-eyed heart throb: not a scrawny, black haired and green eyed child.

However that's what gave him the edge when it came to picking pockets. Big heart throbs would be too easily noticed, while he could slip in and out of shadows with ease. However that skill had failed him this time.

The carriage stopped and the rest of the other prisoners awoke. Furis, Elgar's adopted father for as long as he could remember, stirred next to him and looked around. Furis was big. Very big. So big it seemed like a joke when it was suggested that he was a pick pocket. But he'd taught Elgar everything he knew about the shadows and how to use them to his own monetary gain.

The doors opened and two armed men stepped in. They made their way round unlocking each prisoner and kicking them out before they had the chance to steal their weapons. The outside was lighter maybe, but not better.

There were five armed men with weapons ranging from daggers to warhammers. And a khajiit. A rather big khajiit. He had no weapons or armour but he was definitely the leader. He stood well over the others, but what caught Elgar's eye was the scar that ran over his left eye, leaving it milky. He had seen wounds like that before, probably form some bestial encounter of some sort

As soon as they were all out of the carriage and on their knees, the khajiit spoke. His voice was slurred with a heavy elsweyr accent but it was still discernible.

"Welcome gentleman. I hope you had a pleasant trip," At this some of the armed men chuckled with grim humour. The khajiit had a way of speaking that made everything he said seem so cruel and harsh, while remaining civil and smooth. "We have a rather interesting proposition for you today. A way for you to repay society for all that you leeches have stolen. If you look behind you, you'll see a very nice cave."

"So what?" It was Trengil. "You want us to go dig in a mine?"

"Precisely," a smile tugged and the corner of the khajiit's mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Screw you cat man." Trengil replied standing and spitting in the khajiit's face. Most of the prisoner didn't even notice, some were staring down, apathetic to what was happening. The guards however looked angry. One man drew his sword but the khajiit was faster. He punched straight through Trengil's stomach, his blood soaked fist coming out of his back.

The khajiit shook his arm and Trengil's dead corpse fell to the floor. He wiped the spit from his face with his other hand and asked, "Does anyone else have any questions?"


	2. Chapter 1 - Grunt Work

**Yeah its been a while, I blame life. Then again I am alive and so therefore I am to blame. Argh damn you paradoxical thoughts.**

 **Either was my slowly decaying mental health aside, Thanks you to Stann, Golden and LR as per the usual way of things.**

* * *

Part 1

To Begin Again

 _"_ Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can." Arthur Ashe.

Chapter 1 – Grunt Work

 **Adrya**

206 4th era.

Adrya closed the door behind her and slid the lock into place. She stepped forward, while untying the clasp that held Takk at her side. She pulled the sheathed sword off of her hip and slid it into the holder set into the wall. She then removed her ebony dagger and slid it into the holder next to her sword. She pulled off the shimmering cloak she had got from Storm, which had once belonged to Colden and before him Largar, and hung it on a hook. Her fingers moved to the clasps built into the armour of her right hand shoulder. The armour was a strange design, built uniquely for her. Each piece was designed to fall off when enough pressure was delivered from the inside, allowing her to Shift in her armour without fear of injuring herself.

The armour, which covered only her shoulder had taken weeks of forging to complete and was worth more money than most peasant farmers would make in a lifetime. All of the pieces of armour were each made of two different layers that were held tightly together to stop it from rolling too much and harming her. The lower layer was made of thick tanned leather on most areas that had machalite chainmail for joints or places of movement. The top layer was made out small scale-like ebony plates that covered everything. Each scale, which were each around the size of her thumb were tightly fastened to the layer beneath. This meant that most direct hits would slide off and be completely negated. Her chest piece was slightly different, with scales that were around the double the size. Her helmet was the only piece that was not scaled, instead it was just solid, visored ebony helmet.

As each piece was taken off and placed on the armour stand, she felt like huge weight was being lifted of. The armour was enchanted with a similar enchantment to that of her sword. While wearing it, her strength was increased allowing her to carry the armour easily, but as soon as the armour was taken off, and the enchantment revoked, her body reacted as if it had been carrying the whole thing unaided the entire time. It left her sore and pained in her shoulders and back, but luckily as soon as she put the armour back on the soreness was gone.

When she had been given the armour she had asked why not just make the armour lighter through the enchantment instead. The answer she had been given had fallen along the lines of _'if each piece gave her the strength to carry the armour and then some extra as well, then while wearing all the pieces together she would be stronger than she really was_ '. She had seen the sense in that, in fact that had been very useful to her, to her estimations she was about twice as strong with the armour as she was without. Also the enchantment was only useful to her and so she had fun being able to restrain people by simply falling on them

When finally every piece was removed, she moved to a small chest and pulled out a new set of clothes and threw them onto the bed. She moved to the only other door in her room and pulled it open. The room on the other side had only a metal tub, a tall cabinet and a looking glass as tall as she was. She moved to the side of the tub and tapped a small depression. She didn't understand the magic behind it entirely but from what she could grasp, the tub had an activate able enchantment that would heat whatever was inside it to a certain temperature and hold it there. She moved to the side of the wall and pressed a button. She heard another click and then a huge amount of snow was dropped from a hole in the ceiling above the tub. Somehow, every time the snow always went straight into the tub and none was ever left on the outside. The snow came from the top of the mountain she was currently in. It didn't take long for the snow to heat and turn into lovely warm water.

She quickly unclothed, leaving her ring on, and stepped into the tub. She had to marvel sometimes what magic could do if applied into situations that weren't about just killing or not being killed. Every time, without fail, the water was the perfect heat. She rolled her shoulders and began to massage her neck, trying to rid the aching from her muscles. It wasn't long before the heat of the water rubbed away at the pain. She then began to wash her body, starting with her hair, making sure not to tangle it into knots, and then working her way down all the way to her feet.

Once she was done she laid back and allowed herself to relax slightly, letting the warmth of the water enter her body and wash away the building fatigue. She could have stayed like that for hours, and in fact she once had, but the prospect of wrinkled skin was enough to get her to get out after enough time had passed. Once she was out, she pressed button on the tub again, which opened a small hole at the bottom of it, funnelling the water into somewhere below, while also removing the heating enchantment.

She moved to the cabinet while the tub emptied itself. She pulled a towel from the cabinet and quickly dried her body before moving on to her hair. After a few minutes she was eventually satisfied that her hair was dry enough to be able to fully dry on its own in a few hours. She then picked up the towel and the pile of her dirty clothes and pushed them down a hole that was set into the wall. She wasn't entirely sure where the clothes went, all she knew was that in a few days those clothes would appear in her chest and the towel in her cabinet, completely dry and clean. She moved to her bed and pulled on the new clean clothes she had set out.

When she was done she caught sight of herself in the mirror. It still amazed sometimes how different she really looked. Not only had she grown a few inches taller, the muscles on her shoulders and arms were a lot bigger. Her hair as well was much shorter than it had been. Now it was much easier to manage, while still making her look feminine: cut short to just past her shoulders.

She pulled the covers on her bed back and climbed in. She laid down and curled into a ball enjoying the warmth of the bed, letting it soothe her mind and release some the of the fatigue that infected her. She reached out to tap the button set into the side of the wall, which would disable the magical light spell that floated on the ceiling.

Her hand got close to the button, but before she could press it, she heard a light knock on her door. She groaned inwardly. _'So close.'_ She thought grumpily. It seemed that every time she got anywhere being able to rest in any meaningful way, some other 'task' or 'mission' would pop up. She had nearly come to the belief that Storm would wait outside her door, listening for the perfect moment to interrupt her.

"One second," She said to the late caller. She pushed the covers off and begrudgingly got out of bed. She made her way to the door, but before she reached the door, she remembered to pick up her dagger and hold it behind her back. You could never be too careful. She reached with her right hand to the locking mechanism and slid the metal bar up, waiting for the click, then pulled open the door.

Stood outside her door was not the man she had expected. In fact she wasn't sure he counted as a man.

The black scaled argonian was not in his usual dark grey clothing. He had swapped his cloak and armour for instead what looked like a very fancy set of leather armour. It was dark blue colour, with slight white trimmings. It didn't look too useful in battle, too ornamental to deflect any blows, although it was probably very light and so did not impede speed too much. Overall it was very pretty to look at, but not necessarily the greatest use in battle. Which was the opposite of what she would say of her adopted uncle.

She had seen Tio in battle. Well she rarely actually saw him; she saw the arrows that sprouted from his foes and deep cuts that came from the shadows. She quickly glanced and saw that his short sword and his bow were still equipped. Tio was a self-proclaimed thief and assassin. If you were able to see Tio, it was probably because he had already stolen all your money and holding the sword that had just spontaneously appeared in your chest.

As was the same with her father and her other uncle, she knew very little about him. According to Largar and Storm, Fero, Toran and Tio had been brought up together in Elsweyr. The state of their parents and what had led to them meeting Largar on the crew of a privateer ship was still a mystery, to not only her but nearly all of the Agents of the Crimson Dragons.

"Uncle," she said with fake endearment, "Please come in." It wasn't that she disliked him too much; it was more that she still found it hard to accept that he was in anyway, adopted or not, related to her. He claimed that he fought for the same goals as her father but she wasn't sure. He was thief, through and through and she wasn't sure he could change who he was.

He nodded without speaking and moved past Adrya, into the room. She closed the door and slid the lock into place. She turned to look at the argonian just in time to see Tio inspecting the bare walls of her room.

"Why is it that you call on my chambers at such a late hour, Uncle dear?" Largar had been giving her lessons on how to speak to fit her surroundings. Tio might be a thief but he was also a man of great prestige and stature; in his company she would speak properly.

"It's morning." Adrya shrugged and Tio sighed. "I have come on business." His curt response was clear and not accented. She moved to the cabinet on the side of her bed and pulled open the lowest draw. She withdrew one of the bottles from draw and held it out towards Tio. He shook his head softly, so she closed the draw and took the bottle for herself.

"But I thought you had come to inquire about your favourite niece's well being." She uncorked the bottle and took a light swig of the ale. The taste wasn't brilliant, but it was alcohol, and the look on her uncle's face told her she was going to need it. "Oh how you wound me, Uncle, you make it sound like you don't even care about me. "

"I don't care about you." Almost opposite to his profession, Tio never lied, or at least he did so well enough that no one noticed. "I don't care about anyone. But your petty emotions aside; I need to brief you about a mission."

Adrya raised an eyebrow. "Mission? I thought I only ran missions with Storm." She sat down on the edge of her bed and Tio moved to lean on the cabinet.

"Normally yes, but circumstances have called Storm to another mission that only he can do, and we still have something for you to do. So the High Marshal has decided that I take over from Storm on this mission."

"This had better be better than crawling through another sewer; I swear my clothes stank for a week after the last one." Not even a sly grin from the argonian. _'This is going to be a fun mission.'_

"How much do you know about the occurrences of Dovahkiins?"

Adrya quickly cast her mind back to the books her father had got from the Greybeards. "Dragonborns are said to appear in times of crisis and upheaval. Times when the people need a hero. Well that's what folk lore says, others believe that many dragonborns are born every generation throughout the world, but few ever find the chance to realise it. There are a few sects that believe that the gift is in some forms hereditary. There is some evidence for this claim but it's still more hearsay than anything solid."

"How many Dovahkiins do you know of?"

"Excluding rumours I can only really name four: Tiber Septim, Colden, myself and Artor." The child was quite interesting. Not only was he being trained in secret without Colden knowing, by the Crimson Dragons but also at the tender age of three he had learnt the Thu'um after Adrya had demonstrated it only once.

Now that she thought about it was strange that the Order had managed to take Colden's son without being noticed. When someone had turned up and given the child to Alea and her in Whiterun, she had assumed that Colden had not known he had existed. But after talking to Lydia she had learnt that Colden had never been able to find the child and had been fed information that the child had been killed by the same vampire that had tried to kill Lydia. She assumed that information had come in some way from the Order.

"Until a week ago I would have said the same." Adrya blinked her eyes in confusion. Seeing this Tio continued. "One of our safe houses in Windhelm sent a message just over a week ago about a young nord man, claiming to have killed a dragon. There were eyewitnesses to say that he had done so, and that he had absorbed the soul. Needless to say the Jarl decided to reward him for it, even commissioning that a bow be made out of the dragon's bone for him. But just before our recruiters could move in to take him and offer him a place in the Order, he was killed by two masked assassins in the middle of the city. Our recruiters did manage to hunt down the assassins, but the bastards were so heavily brainwashed that they ended up killing themselves before we could get anything from them. However we did manage to find that they had arrived in the city from sea and after a little bit of digging we found that they had come from Solstheim."

"Solstheim? I thought that was a tiny little outpost for Morrowind trade routes. I didn't think anyone really lived there."

"It is an outpost but it's not as small and meek as some in the Empire and Skyrim would believe. It has quite a thriving trade centre based on the export of this fancy ice called Stalhrim they found there."

"Ice? Who buys ice? Skyrim is cold enough as it is and if you really want to keep something cold you just hire a mage to enchant something or you do the spell yourself." Adrya admitted that she was not brilliant at understanding trade and economics. But surely ice was not a large enough commodity to be sold to the mainland. Even if it was special.

"Well for one it's not really ice. It just looks that way. If you spend time with it you realise very quickly that it does not behave like ice. For one it does not melt and secondly it doesn't shatter the same way. In fact some have even used it to craft pieces of armour. But that's beside the point, what matters is that the information leads back to Solstheim. Which means we need to go there and find out why those assassins targeted the man in Windhelm."

Slowly his meaning fell into place. "So you want me to go to draw out the assassins because I am Dovahkiin?"

Tio shrugged. "Well we don't know for sure that he was attacked because he was Dragonborn but it seems like the most likely option, so yes you are going mostly as bait."

Adrya nodded but then she looked up her uncle. "Why are you going? Surely any other agent could oversee a simple trap like this; it doesn't demand the skills of a Marshal."

Tio looked at her for a long while before replying. "We have a man at that 'tiny little outpost' but he'll only talk to me. And besides I thought it high time we had some Uncle-Niece time together." That, unfortunately, got a grin from the argonian.

* * *

"Why exactly do we have to dress in these clothes?"

The huge gates of Windhelm rose high into the sky. They were made of solid oak with steel bars reinforcing it every so often. The doors were of much higher standard that those she had grown used to in Whiterun. These doors were meant to withstand a siege, not just a small pattering of bandit arrows every so often. These were doors built for a city on the edge of war.

"What do you think would happen in a highly armed and heavily armoured nord women, and a dashingly handsome argonian with the wit of a master jester, just strolled through a city filled with xenophobic, stab happy Stormcloaks and asked for a ship to a dark elf owned land? And besides we have your armour and sword in that bag."

The solid stone walls that surrounded the city had to be at least as thick as two men stood with arms stretched out. There were spots where she could see dents and scratches in the wall, but for a city this old, the entire thing was in quite good condition.

"I see your point, but I refuse to give up my dagger. I am not walking around completely unarmed. And besides how would clothes help you? No offense, but no clothes will change the fact that you have scales and tail."

The bridge itself was also built with the same purpose. It was sturdy and as far as she could tell it was one of the few ways you could get into the city by land. The others being a jumping from a cliff and hoping to land on the walls. And the bridge was narrow enough to cause a bottleneck but not too bad that it was hard to get across at speed.

"I know. But I have a plan for that."

Adrya tore her gaze away from the city as they turned into the stables on the outskirts. Normally she would have ridden Storm here, but seeing as he was preoccupied elsewhere she had been forced to use a horse that the Order had supplied. They moved to the front of the building and started to dismount just as a young man came out.

He moved to Tio and nodded slightly. "Please sir, but do you wish to have your horse tended to?"

The argonian gave the man a look and then responded. "Does Garet work here still?"

"I'm afraid he doesn't, his wife is ill."

Tio's face twitched slightly. "Well tell them from me that I hope she gets better soon." There wasn't any sense of sorrow in his voice. More… apprehension.

The young man took the reins from the two of them and moved to stables and begun to tie the horse up. He didn't even ask for any money. Tio silently gestured for her to follow him up towards the bridge. As soon as they were out of earshot of the man and the guards posted at the front he pulled her tightly into an alcove.

Before Adrya could shout, he pulled his finger over his mouth and shushed her. She looked at him and nodded for him to continue.

"We may have a slight problem. Apparently we aren't the only ones looking into the Dragonborn's killers." Adrya made to ask a question but Tio answered before she could say anything. "Vampires were spotted in the city, not many, but more than usual. This means we can assume that Colden, or whoever looks after his intel gathering is interested in this matter. This puts us on shorter time scale." Tio started muttering to himself and Adrya began to suspect he wasn't talking to her anymore. "Ideally I had hoped to spend a month or two integrating before doing anything big, but now I simply don't have the time."

When the argonian stopped muttering to himself, Adrya took a moment to take it all in. Something seemed off about it to her. "You got that all from talking about some man's ill wife?"

Tio rolled his eyes heavily and looked at her with a stern look. "You're not good at espionage are you?" Instead of rising to his insult and ultimately giving him more enjoyment she just stared flatty back at him. He eventually sighed and explained. "It's a code, a simple one. Asking for Garet tells him that I'm an agent with the Order, him saying that 'Garet' is not here means something is wrong. Illness on a family member means vampires. You understand now?" Adrya nodded. "Good. Now we need to figure out a way to get through the city and to the docks, hire a ship and get to Solstheim without the bloodsuckers noticing. Dammit, why is everything always so complicated nowadays?"

"This may be a silly question." Adrya's glare stopped Tio from responding how he had intended. "Why are the vamps such a huge problem? Does it really matter if we are seen by them? If they attack I'm pretty sure we could kill them, dependent on numbers of course, but the point still stands. Why do we have to change anything?"

Tio held up his finger. "First rule of stealth: It doesn't matter what you're doing- you make sure the enemy never finds out, or if they do, minimise as much as possible. If we go in there, brazenly heading to the docks and then hopping on a ship to Solstheim, it might alert the vamps to more info than they already had. For all we know they have no idea where the killers are from. And besides if we _do_ end up in open combat there is higher chance that either of us or maybe even a random civilian would be hurt. What's to say they won't take a hostage? What will you do then? Personally I wouldn't care, but I suspect you might be put out about condemning a poor little Alfie to a horrible painful death involving-."

"Ok so the front door is out, what can we do? Sneak around the city and hire a boat without being spotted?"

"That would never work. We could potentially get round to the docks without being noticed but getting a ship ready to sail would take too much time, and I have no doubt that they will have the docks watched."

"Fine, but surely there are more people hiring boats that just us? How would they know that we weren't going to take a boat to Dawnstar, or we could just hire the boat for Dawnstar and then turn it around as soon as we were far enough out to sea."

Tio thought for a few seconds. His eyes became distant and she assumed he was running the scenario through in his head. Eventually he just shook his head. "No it wouldn't work."

"Why not?" She asked crossing her arms. She was being to grow tired of his continuous lack of faith in her ideas.

"You have the blood of a werewolf. They can smell that."

Adrya deflated slightly. _'Oh I hadn't thought about that.'_ She knitted her brows in confusion. "Well then surely every plan is destined to fail?"

"Not really, and that reminds me." He reached into one of his many pockets and pulled something out. "Take this." He handed her a solid silver ring. The ring itself had a few minor inscriptions along the rim but it seemed to be in another language. One she had never seen before.

"What is this?" As she asked she saw Tio pulled another ring, this one made of gold, from another pocket. He didn't answer and instead slipped the ring onto his right index finger. As soon as he put on the ring there was a shimmer of colour and then his appearances.

Instead of a black scaled argonian with a protruding snout, he was dark haired nord. His skin was slightly tanned and he had few wrinkles across his brow making him look aged and wise. His thinning dark brown hair had streak of grey throughout and his sparkling blue eyes made him look like some mischievous old man. His build was similar to before and he looked the same height. But otherwise his physical appearance was completely changed.

"It creates a whole body illusion. Unfortunately the illusion has to be very precise and so not anyone could use my ring and I couldn't use any ring. Each ring is uniquely crafted for the intended bearer in mind. Put yours on."

Adrya nodded quickly and slipped the ring onto her right ring finger, her index finger occupied by her ring of Hircine. The first change she noticed was the lack of scars across his arms. Growing up in the Companions and training as an agent in the Crimson Dragons had given her a fair share of scars all up and down her arms, but now all of them were gone save a new set of scars that cut across her fore arms at almost the same height. It looked almost as if she had used her arms as some kind of shield from a bladed attack. Tio handed her a mirror and she got to see what her face looked like. Her facial structure was very much the same, but her eyes and hair was completely different. Instead of being almost blood red, her hair was now a sickly pale blonde. It looked almost white for Talos sake. Her eyes were no longer a nice shade of blue, but were instead a dull brown. Fortunately the illusion did manage to remove the less attractive scars that had been on her face.

"That ring took a long time to create and it is likely more expensive that almost any other piece of equipment that you will be given, it's on the same level as your entire set of armour as a collective. To create the ring, Ragnar and I had to spend nearly month trying the same weave over and over until it created the right illusion and your skin wasn't blue or something ridiculous." He handed her a small pouch that was attached to a loop of rope. "When you are not wearing the ring put it in here and wear this around your neck at all times. Do not lose that ring." She took the strange necklace and pulled it over her head and then under her shirt. "You are going to have to create a believable backstory for this appearance but right now you just have to follow my lead and pretend to be my daughter." Adrya nodded in understanding.

Tio stepped out of the alcove and turned towards the city. She fell into step beside her as he began to fill her in on the specifics of how to make sure the enchantment was working properly and pointed out the easiest ways to notice if the weave was about to break. He also stressed that the illusion would not be as effective against advanced magic users and vampires. In that case she would just have to keep a distance and try not to draw too much attention. He also it abundantly clear that she was, at no point, to touch his face. If she did she would not touch the face of nord but instead the snout of an argonian. Anyone watching would see her hand stop in mid-air and appear to have found resistance. That would draw too much attention.

When they go about half way across the bridge, Tio's explanation lulled for long enough for Adrya to speak. "The enchantment is great and all, but it still doesn't solve the problem of the whole 'werewolf' smell thing, now does it?"

Tio slowed his pace but did not stop. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed and focused on her illusionary face. He nodded. "You're right; it doesn't solve the beast blood issue." He looked forward and picked up the pace again. Adrya sighed and sped up to be in line with him.

"Let me guess, you have some amazing plan to somehow fool the vampires in to not smelling my blood?"

"Yup." He didn't even bother to look back.

"Care to share?"

"You know the first rule of stealth?" He glanced over his shoulder with a flash of a malevolent grin. She was getting tired of his evasive way of answering questions. It reminded her too much of her relationship with her father.

"Don't let your enemies know what you're doing." Tio may think she was a simple minded warrior with muscle for brains, but she would show herself yet.

"No."

"What? But you _just_ said that-."

Tio cut her off by turning around to face her and lifting a finger in front of her face. "The first rule of stealth is to cause a distraction." His grin broke further, his illusionary face contorting into a representation of a jovial nord's features. He span on his heels and carried on walking, leaving Adrya frustrated and annoyed, seething at his back.

After muttering a few unsavoury words, while also insinuating about an encounter between a cow and his mother, she took a deep breath and carried on after the argonian. _'This is going to be a nightmare.'_

Adrya spent the next hour trying to figure out which deity she had annoyed.

* * *

Adrya took a long swig of her tankard of ale. She tilted her head back and kept drinking. Each gulp sent another mouthful of the tavern's strongest ale down her throat. The fire licked at the base of her neck, burning up it like a forest blaze. She could feel the liquid heat slide down her throat until it landed in burning patch at the pit of her stomach.

Adrya grinned. _'Now that is some strong ale.'_

Ever since she had joined the Order, Storm had spent as much time training her in her skills as a fighter as she had spent at High Hrothgar honing her use of the Thu'um with the Greybeards. At one point she had spent nearly a month on that cold mountain learning shout after shout from the old sages. Even though she had spent a lot of time practising she was still yet to master them all. Her control of 'Unrelenting Force', as the old men called it, was far better than the rest, but it still need time before she was fully confident with it.

However a side effect that had arisen from her time training was one that was both a blessing and a curse. Because she had used the Thu'um so much, her throat had become almost numb to most pain. On the one hand it meant that Shouting didn't tear her throat to shreds like it used to, but on the other she could rarely find a good alcohol that managed to burn the back of her throat.

As soon as the last drop was gone, she slammed the empty mug on the wooden table. There was a cheer from around her as she did and she looked up to see her opponent finishing off his drink just in time to slam it down in front of him.

The nord on the other side of the table was at least six and half feet tall, with shoulders as broad as two full grown men. His blonde hair was shaven close to his head, and his piercing blue eyes were diluted from the amount of alcohol he had consumed in the last hour. His dark blue guard uniform was stained in various places with what she assumed was alcohol, most of them looking rather fresh. Even so, he was surprisingly conscious. Adrya was only able to be still awake because of a combination of her lycanthropy and Thu'um, yet this fellow was not going down any time soon.

She had to admit, even if she didn't fully like the argonian, she did like his idea of a diversion. While she would challenge the 'manliest' man in the inn he would use that as cover to secure a place on a boat to Solstheim through one of his corrupt guards in the city. As soon as the boat was ready she was to start a bar fight and then they would use the chaos as a cover to sneak off to the ship and set sail for Solstheim.

She leant forward on her right elbow and pulled another stack of coins from her pouch and slid them to the bartender. Her opponent did the same. There was a light muttering as everyone waited for the bartender to fill the mugs. She glanced round the inn, looking out for Tio and his signal, when she noticed the three vampires across the room.

Tio had pointed them out to her, but even without his help she would have noticed them eventually. She had worked with the Dawnguard for some time: she knew how to spot a bloodsucker. Dressed finely. Reclusive, yet observant. Always away from the sun but still with a back to a wall. Not only that, but they hadn't touched their drinks more than once in the last hour. Either vampires or depressed, lightweight paranoid noblemen.

There was thud that brought her out of her contemplations. Her head snapped back to see two new tankards set in front of her and the guard. She brought her head slowly away from her hand and reached for the mug, swaying her hand slightly. She hoped it wasn't so overt as to look forced. Fortunately the guard was either too drunk or too stupid to notice. Instead he pulled his mug to him, greedily staring at the foaming liquid.

She grabbed the handle of her ale and pulled it to her as well. Outwardly she grinned with a cocky smirk and tipped the mug back again. On the inside however she was getting slightly anxious. _'How long is that lizard gonna be.'_ It had been nearly an hour and a half since he had left her in the tavern. Surely it didn't take that long to hire a boat, did it? Either way she had to keep this contest long enough for everything to be ready.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her opponent down his mug at the same time as her. The alcohol made its way down her neck and into her gut. She kept chugging and eventually slammed down the mug just before the guard could. There was another round of applause from the spectators and she could see septims changing hands.

As the bartender took the mug and her gold again, she discretely looked out across the tavern once more. This time however she did notice Tio stood at the door. His new image was slightly bland and she nearly missed him: that was probably the point of it though. His blue eyes locked with hers and he nodded shortly. _'Finally.'_

The bartender had finished filling the guards mug and was about to start filling Adrya's when she opened her mouth and spat at her opponent. The spittle smacked square across his face and there was gasp from the entire crowd. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tio lean forward and place his head in his hand, shaking it slightly.

At first the guard seemed not to notice. But then a few moments after his hand slowly moved to his face and his expression changed from curiosity to rage as his fingers came away wet.

She saw his right fist coming from a mile away. She couldn't dodge it though, not as drunk as she was, however she could use the environment to her advantage. She grabbed hold of the bottom of the table, and with burst of strength, she pushed up, knocking the table back and throwing it towards the guard. His punch fell harmlessly against the wood just before the table flattened him.

She purposefully slurred her words and turned to the rest of the crowd, some of whom were dressed in the same uniform as the man she had just toppled. "Thach man wassh scheating, he wassh." She threw an overextended, highly predictable swing at the approaching guards and they easily dodged.

One of the men took her overextension as an opening and tried to smash down on her head with a cudgel. However she had other ideas on her mind instead of trying to pull back up into a stance or try to move out of the way of the hit, she charged forward and tackle the surprised guard, taking him to the ground as well. However the plan wasn't perfect, she still felt the cudgel impact with her shoulder, but it was not nearly as powerful as it would have been. She heard the air woosh from his lungs as he hit the ground, but she didn't have the time to make sure he was out. She clumsily dived forward and just out of the way of another guard's cudgel.

She rolled to her feet and tried assess what was happening. Fortunately it seemed that her outburst had caused enough chaos to start more fights, there were few people here and there, most likely the ones who had been betting on her, fighting off the guard. Unfortunately there were still two guards focused on her.

She barely had any time to breathe before the first one charged straight for her. Although even in her drunken state the nord's tackle was easy to dodge. She quickly side stepped to her left and turned away from the staggering man. However it seemed the other guard had anticipated this and slashed straight for her with a short sword. She felt the blade pierce and cut her lower abdomen, there was a spike of pain, but even drunk it was just a flesh wound.

However that didn't stop the rising anger. A flurry of hot rage shot up from her gut as she leant forward and smashed her forehead against his nose. There was an explosion of blood across her face, and she felt a tug of come from her ring. The beast wanted to come out and play. _'Well now that sounds fun, a hunt, a battle to enjoy after so long.'_

A hand fell on her shoulder and she spun round instinctively, her teeth snapping out at the person behind her.

"Whoa, calm down. Aw shit the spell got you to." There was sharp pain as a hand slap across her face. Only then did she notice who it was. Tio, still looking like his fake self, was stood in shadows. His form seemed indistinct though. Shadows seemed to writhe across his form. She had seen something like that before; when Ragnar had stopped her from stabbing the Jarl of Falkreath. However this time the shadows didn't look like magic more like just normal shadows. _'How do they do that?'_

The rage she had felt in her stomach was gone and instead she was left with a cool peace. The drunkenness however was not gone. She could still feel it clouding her mind.

"You ready to go?" The false nord asked.

She nodded.

"Good, take this and let's go." He handed her a vial and turned to leave the chaos behind them. "That will get rid of the cloud of alcohol over your mind, however it will make tomorrow morning ever worse." She downed it anyway, she needed to be able to think right now.

As soon as they exited the inn, he pulled her out of the way just as a patrol of guards ran past and into the tavern. When they were gone Tio handed her, her dagger and she clasped it tightly in her grip.

They made their way through the city, avoiding guards when they could, to the docks without incident. When they were getting close to the boat however there was terrible noise behind them.

Both snapped round to see one of the vampires from the tavern was just behind them. His eyes were glowing like orange flames, clearly visible in the dusk. The vampires scream chilled her blood and every person in the dock was now looking at the blood sucker. _'This is exactly what we didn't want. Innocents in the middle is not gonna help this.'_

She had trained a lot in how to fight vampires, both in the Dawnguard and the Order. She knew how they thought and fought. The blood sucker would try to intimidate with a primal type of fear spell. Then he would carelessly slaughter everyone with his superior speed and claws.

She wasn't gonna let him get anywhere near that. She charged forward, keeping low and gripping her dagger tightly. It certainly didn't have the same reach as Takk, something that was optimal in fight with vampires, but it was fast and sharp.

She barrelled into him, knocking him off balance, and cutting his scream short. As he stumbled backwards, his eyes blinking, she slashed out with her dagger. Unfortunately he somehow recovered quickly enough to dodge out of the way.

 _'Dammit.'_ She was way too overextended and the vamp knew it. All he had to do was sink his fangs in her neck or slash across her poorly armoured back. She tried to roll forward and get out of his reach, but she felt stinging pain as his claws raked across her back. A cry of pain came unbidden from her mouth as she fell forward.

She quickly tried to rise to her feet but the vampire punched straight down on her head, smacking it against the cobbled ground. Bright flashes shot up across her vision as she felt blood spill from a crack on her temple. She barely fought against the cloud of unconscious and rolled on to her back, bringing her dagger up as a meek defence.

The vampire stood over her. His burning orange eyes staring down at her with bloodlust and hunger. A smile of sick desire crept across his face as he licked his teeth, getting ready for a meal. He leant down his mouth growing wider.

She stabbed into his stomach with her dagger but he didn't even notice. His bloodlust was too much, he wouldn't stop until he had drunk all of her blood.

There was thud sound and vampire was thrown to the side, his fangs barely missing her. She quickly glanced to the side and saw Tio stood still dressed in his disguise but with his bow held in one hand, his quiver over his shoulder and his short sword on his belt. His face was a mask of no emotion, his eyes locked on the vampire.

"Get to the ship." He didn't even look at her. "I'll deal with this one." She stumbled to her feet and ran to the boat, her dagger somehow still in her hands. When she got the ship she turned and looked over her shoulder to the see the vampire rise to his feet.

He began to chuckle as he snapped the arrow from his side. "You think that will kill me? You are nothing compared to my power." The vampire took a step forward.

Tio answered by unleashing another arrow, this time catching him in the leg. The vampire's body fell out from under him, however this time her caught himself and raised himself back to his feet much quicker. This only served to increase his laughter. "Your petty attempts to kill me are amusing. I think I might actually let you live, for a little while, then perhaps you may entertain me." The vampire continued forward ignoring the pair of arrows in his body.

Tio released another arrow, this one driving into his shoulder. The vampire recovered quickly and retorted again, his body covered in blood, but with no sign of pain. The vampire screamed at Tio, his voice shrill and rage filled. "You can barely touch me. I am immortal." The vampire was nearly on Tio, his pace increasing. Involuntarily she felt herself jolt forward to help. Tio was going to be killed, this vampire was way more powerful than they had expected, and there was no way-

Tio unleashed one last arrow, and Adrya realised that this one was different even before it hit the vampire in the middle of the chest. This one was silver. The arrow impacted and there was a brief moment where the vampire's expression changed from amusement and excitement to deep, deep fear.

The corruption spread like wildfire across his body and it wasn't long before he was nothing but ash.

Tio looked at the ash pile for a moment before turning and walking to the boat. "No one's immortal."


	3. Chapter 2 - Harsh Reality

**Yeah little longer than expected but hopefully that means that quality is better. Yeah not how it works but I can always live in hope.**

 **Thanks to Golden, Stann and LM as per the usual.**

* * *

 _"_ _There's a harsh reality - nothing lasts forever. You have to be ready to grow, and grow fast." Pras Michel_

Chapter 2 – Harsh Reality

 **Elgar**

Elgar's nimble fingers quickly untied the guard's pouch. The pouch came loose just as Elgar stumbled forward into the guard, pretending to have tripped on an uneven cobble. The guard looked down at Elgar as he fell and instinctively put up his hands to catch the young nord. Elgar fell into his arms and subtly pocketed the guard's pouch.

"You alright there, lad?" The guard looked down at him with mild surprise and some slight hesitation. Guards in Markarth learnt very early on that you could never trust kids, especially the small sickly looking ones. However this guard was new, he'd barely been at his post for more than week and he was yet to learn about the underbelly of crime in the city.

"I'm fine, sir. Sorry sir, just a little dizzy." Elgar pushed himself off the guard and moved to start walking away, but then collapsed down clutching his belly. He gritted his teeth and tried to push as much saliva out of his mouth as possible. The more disgusting the display the more distracting. The more distracting, the longer it would take before the guard realised that his pouch was gone.

There was a slight tremor as the man asked a question. "You sure you're okay there, lad?" Elgar slowly stood upright and turned to the guard, keeping his hood over his face. He tried to put on his best 'bone-break fever' voice. _'A slight tremor with a wince of pain when taking deep breaths.'_ He was getting rather good at that one. Admittedly it wasn't as good as his 'rot-gut' or 'blood weakness' but it wasn't bad. And it served the job well.

"I'll b'fine, sir, sorry for botherin' ya." He tried to slur his words slightly. Bone break predominantly acted on the bones, as was evident from the name, but it did the nasty side effect of causing agony in the body, so slurring wouldn't go amiss.

Elgar began to hobble away taking one step at a time. He heard the guard sigh and turn back to his post. Elgar kept hobbling until he heard the guard stop. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and saw that the guard was tapping the place on his belt where his pouch had been. _'Elgar, exit stage left.'_

Elgar straightened up and dashed forward, casting aside his sickly demeanour. He got to the corner of the street before the guard could yell in surprise. Elgar kept running once he got past the corner, the guard hadn't seen his face, but Elgar wasn't the fastest nord in the Skyrim so he had to use his head start wisely.

As he ran he shrugged off the deep brown woollen cloak he had been wearing and rolled it up into ball. Flying past a pair of barrels on the side of a wall, he threw it in between them. It was gonna be stolen anyway so why bother making it hard to spot.

Elgar exited the alley and came out into a market. There were several vendors and traders in the middle of the square, yelling over each other about how their wares were irrefutably better than all the rest. He dashed across, ignoring the looks he got from those in his way. He couldn't push through the crowd so he had to dodge around people, ducking behind the patrons.

As soon as he got the other side of the market he ducked into the doorway of a rundown building. He tapped three times on the door then waited two beats before tapping again. There was slight rustling from behind the door. He heard footsteps as someone started walking to the door. He tried to calm his nerves as he stood waiting.

A small peephole opened up on the door and a single eye popped out. The dark brown eye looked down at him and quickly scanned him, checking who he was and if there were any obvious tails. The eye flicked around once more before the peep hole slammed shut and there was sound of locks being lifted. It took a while before the door cracked open and Elgar slipped in.

As soon as he was in the door slammed shut behind him. He turned just in time for his adopted father to reach down and grapple him in tight bear hug. The man was an enigma. He was nearly seven feet tall yet he was highly accomplished pickpocket. He was stronger than most nord's yet he was basically a pacifist. He was thief who had family. Furis released him from his grasp and then turned back to walk the centre of the room where a stew post was brewing.

"What did you use this time? Rot-gut or the shakes?" Furis sat himself down on side of the pot and Elgar did the same, lowering himself onto the floor. He tossed the pouch to Furis, who caught it in his huge palm.

"Neither. I tried out bone-break." Elgar picked up a bowl and began to pour himself some stew while Furis went through the pouch.

Furis raised an eyebrow at him. "Did it work?"

Elgar took a spoonful of stew before answering. The meaty broth filled his entire body with warmth after the first gulp. "Yeah it kinda did, however it makes a horrible getaway hobbling around like that. probably better as a distraction than for single pickings."

Furis nodded and then placed the pouch down with the others the two had collected over the last weeks. "So that's another one to save for later." He poured himself his own bowl and began to eat as well. Neither spoke while they ate. When any meal could be your last, you didn't dally.

The scene before his eyes became hazy.

 _'I wish I could've stayed there. Spending my days duping guards and my nights refining my disguises. It wasn't the average vision of a happy life but it was what I had, and it was what I loved. Now it's gone.'_

Two days after he had picked that guard's pocket he had been found trying to steal from a noble. He had been caught and put in jail. Furis had got him out, but in doing so the two had been caught by slavers. The city guards hadn't cared. The thieves were gone and that was all they cared about. It didn't matter where they went.

Soon Elgar's view of that time he had spent with Furis was gone and he was left alone drifting in a vast ocean of mist. The mist around him seemed to swirl and rise, like waves crashing against an invisible shore. There were flashes randomly in the mists and for brief moments Elgar got to see things in the mist.

There was flash to his right and he saw what looked like a vast hall filled with different people. Each patron was different. Some looked elven or human while others were completely foreign to him. One man, or he assumed it was a man, seemed to be made of a spinning pink mist. There were tall sconces that held huge torches, each blazing a different shade of orange flame. The table itself was made of what looked like solid stone, as if it had been carved from a single block. The image quickly faded.

Another image flared into sight on his left. It took him some time before he realised it was the same hall. However there were none of the same occupants and the huge torches were unlit. Instead there were only two _things_ present. There was woman who looked vaguely elven although she could also be a breton, dressed in a fine golden robe with bright blue trimmings. Behind her was swirling mass of dark black smoke. The smoke shifted and for a fleeting moment Elgar saw what looked like a horrific visage of some terrible monster; eyes dark red like the embers of a long dead fire. The monster had many tendril like smoke arms that whipped around trying to grasp the woman. Eventually one of the arms wrapped round the woman's waist. The woman screamed silently as she was engulfed and the vision was gone.

More visions passed by him. Some of the hall, some of other places. Never again however did he see the smoke creature or the woman. Soon the images began to flare and die too quickly for him to grasp, he span around trying to look at all of them but he could only see a few before they died away, being replaced by new images. A few stuck in his mind: A tower, a winged monster and sight of the sun being absorbed by darkness. He felt a pain begin to rise behind his eyes, as the images became nothing more than an incomprehensible blur of light.

Elgar tried to clamp his eyes shut and clutched his head. Only then did he look at his arms.

His left arm was covering in rope bindings. Almost golden glowing ropes were tied all the way up his arm. Each strand tightly strung and wherever his skin made contact he felt searing hot pain as if it had been touched by a white hot poker.

His right arm was covered in thick iron chains. The chains were black but each link was covered in patchy red rust. The rust and the uneven creation of the links meant that every links sliced open a new cut across his skin.

Blood flowed down Elgar's arms and fell into the bottomless void below him.

But the ropes and chains were not still. They were slowly snaking up his arms towards his head. He watched in terror as the ropes and chains cleared his shoulders. He could feel the heat as the ropes burned through his skin, searing off flesh down to the bone. He could feel the serrated chain slicing his skin, ripping off chunks of muscle with each surge. He couldn't move, he couldn't even close his eyes. All he could do was silently scream as the ropes and chains swarmed eagerly over his head until there was nothing but darkness.

And the pain.

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Elgar sat bolt upright and instantly drew in a heavy breath. He could feel a thick sheen of sweat covering his entire body. He felt his neck pulse with every rapid beat of his heart. His whole body was tensed and he could feel his arms twitching as he slowly realised that it had been a dream.

Slowly he raised his shaking arms up to his face and in the dim torchlight he could see that they were not covered by any serrated chains or hot searing ropes. They were instead bound at the wrist with the constant reminder that he was now someone else's property. He never thought he'd be so happy to see tarnished iron.

He involuntarily shivered as a gust of freezing cold air burst into the cavern that held all the slaves. He instinctively curled up and started to rub his arms, trying in vain to keep the warmth inside his body.

He looked over the slaves and saw one or two others rolling slowly in some sleepy attempt to turn from the wind. None of them had blankets. Elgar looked around at the twenty or so slaves and realised that he wasn't the only one awake.

There were two men sat in corner rolling a pebble around on the floor. He could see runes carved on the sides and he assumed that the men had made some rough version of a die.

The only other one was a redguard that was sat up against the opposite wall. If the redguard cared about the cold he didn't seem to show it. He was dressed in nothing more than pair of breeches that barely made it past his knees. His dark hair was tied back in dreadlocks, and he was staring down the floor in front of him, a blank look in his eyes.

Eventually Elgar started to feel the warmth coming back into his body. He slowly scooted to the edge of the room and sat against the edge of the wall, resting his head on the uneven stone wall. He tried to go back to sleep but every time he closed his eyes all he saw was the chains and ropes slowly moving up his body.

Elgar stayed like that propped up against the wall, shivering whenever the wind blew and unable to fall asleep, until the guards came to get them hours later.

"Come on, scum. Ya got atonin' to do." The first guard said. His two friends behind him were each holding batons in their hands, eyeing up any of the slaves they could hit for being lazy. Begrudgingly the entire group of slaves rose to their feet and fell into single file line, facing the exit of the cave.

"Alright, alright whose turn is it now." The guard made his way down the line, checking each slave for any hidden weapons or forbidden items. He passed Elgar without looking at him and eventually made his way the end. He made a slight _hurmph_ at not being able beat anyone today.

"Right, get lost ya sorry bastards." The line began to slowly shuffle out of the mouth of the cave. The procession walked down corridor after corridor of rough stone and random dark passages that probably ended in cave-ins. They walked for what felt like an hour before they eventually made it to the end of the long tunnel to a new rough rock face.

The guards randomly called out ten of the slaves and gave each one a blunt pickaxe. The other half walked sullenly down to the pile of empty sacks. Elgar was in the second group, but by the time he got to the pile there was only one bag left. A bag with rather large gash ripped in it. _'Wonderful. Fucking wonderful.'_

Even so he picked up the bag and turned back to the line of ten men mining just as they began to bang their picks against the rock face. Elgar found his way to where Furis was mining and began to pick up the rocks that fell down from the swings.

Furis glanced over his shoulder and grinned when he saw Elgar behind him, winked and turned back the cave wall. Elgar felt his stomach lurch. Even in the depths of slave mine, Furis still managed to smile.

He recalled the first time he had asked him about it. His response had been something like, _"Even when faced by the greatest danger or by the strongest agony, you smile, because when you stop smiling, that is when you fully accept that you have lost. After that there is no more point in trying."_

He could never understand how he could do that, the man was able to smile even after taking beating after beating. Yes, he was a beast of a man and easily had the strength to take the blows, but how could he keep smiling? How could he have the mental fortitude to just push aside the misery that was their life now?

Elgar shook his head, forcing thoughts from his mind; thinking just sapped his strength and stopped him from focusing on his work.

A rock the size of his head fell from the wall and tumbled in front of him. It hit with a heavy thud and Elgar winced at how close it had been to his fingers. Elgar tried to take a minute to breathe and he barely had anytime to contemplate how close he had come from being crippled before he was slapped behind the head by a strong hand.

His head was thrown forward and his whole body went with it, flying into the rock, banging his head for a second time. He slumped over the rock and fell down beside it, feeling the thick warm blood pool on the side of his head. His vision was blurred from the impact but he could still see that there was a thug with thick club staring down at him.

"Stop pissin' 'bout and do ya damn job." The accent was one that Elgar had heard before and he could easily hear the words but it took him a while for his brain to piece together what the stout imperial had meant.

Elgar closed his eyes and tried to force back the instinctual tears welling up. He could feel the throbbing from the blow to the back of his head, the dull pain surging every time. Slowly he reopened his eyes and found that the scene had changed once more.

He couldn't see the guard anymore; he was obscured by a huge shadow in the shape of a person. It took him too long to realise that it was Furis who stood over him, facing off against the guard. He couldn't see all of the guard but he could vaguely make out his face in his gradually sharpening vision, and he could easily tell that guard was not happy. Not one fucking bit.

"Wha' the fuck da ya' think ya doin'?" The guard's voice was loud but not necessarily scared. Furis might be big and he might be holding a rather large pickaxe, but the guard was not only armed himself but he had at least a dozen other armed guards backing him up.

"You hit my boy there. I'd ask kindly that you don't do it again." Elgar didn't need to look at Furis' face to know that he was once again smiling. It was what he always did and no doubt it only served to piss off the guard more.

There was shrill laugh from the guard and a slight echo from his companions. All the other slaves had stopped what they were doing, but none seemed actually concerned, just thankful they had an excuse to stop working. "Who da fuck da ya think ya are? That boy there is fucking slave, same as ya. I can do whatever the fuck I want, if ya got a problem with that then you can go fuck ya self." The guard seemed to be grinning after that one. Elgar wasn't sure why.

The guard turned to walk away but Furis called out to him once more, most likely with that same smile. _'That is gonna get him fucking killed.'_ "I'm afraid I can't do that. Hitting people without a reason is something less than bestial urges." Even in his incapacitated state Elgar had to marvel at how Furis managed to bring up something like motivations for violence when he was a fucking slave.

The guard turned back to look at Furis and glared at him straight in the eye. Elgar tried to rise to his feet but his leg gave out from under him and he nearly hit the ground again but a pair of hands shot out and grabbed him under the chest. Elgar looked up just in time to see the guard reach Furis, who glared into the towering man's eyes. He could see the imperial's grip of his club was turning white.

"I have a fuckin' reason," Spittle shot from his overly zealous cursing mouth and hit the tall nord in the face. Furis didn't seem to care. "That boy stopped workin' like a fuckin' slacker. That's my reason for hittin' him." The imperial was going red in the face, obviously not used to being challenged by a slave.

"Well that's not a very good reason," Furis responded, cordially and measured. "He was only reacting because of a danger that was caused by lack of good equipment."

It took the guard a few seconds to fully understand what Furis had meant but when he did finally understand he immediately swung out with his club and cursed at Furis. "Why ya little shit face!"

His club didn't make it halfway before a hand shot out and stopped it in mid-air. At first Elgar thought it was Furis who had stopped the club, but then he saw that both Furis' arms were still by his side. He eventually looked up the thick muscled arm and found that it belonged to the barely clad redguard. He let go of the club and the guard looked up to him, his face filled with even more rage.

"It was my fault, I nudged this man here which caused him to cut a piece too large." The man's accent was hard to place: it was definitely some sort of Hammerfell dialect but it was much more guttural than any Elgar had heard before. Elgar frowned. _'He was stood next to Furis?'_.

"I don't fuckin' care what ya say." The guard reared back and stuck the redguard across the face with the thick wood of his club and there was sickening crack as something in the man's mouth shattered. The tall slave broke under the backhanded strike and toppled to the floor, slamming into the ground.

Before the slave could even take in another breathe, the guard was already kicking him in the side. His boot cracked against the redguard's ribs and head. "I'm in fuckin' charge, ya hear me, I am. Don't fuckin' talk back ya fuckwit." The guard kept kicking him, his smile widening and yelling with each kick. Some of the shouts were insults or racial slurs, others were just grunts or brief bursts of sadistic laughter. None of the slaves did anything to stop him. The other guards just watched from afar. Two looked completely bored by the whole affair, while others were handing around coin purses.

Elgar couldn't bear to watch it any longer. The redguard was still hunched on the floor taking each kick with no sound, not even a grunt of pain. The guard's boot came back with more blood and Elgar felt some the warm liquid splash against his legs. Elgar tried push forward, to stop the man, to do something. But tight arms caught him and held him back.

"Let me go." He grunted and pushed as hard as he could against the arms. The arms released him just as he swung round to see who it was. Stood there was nord girl about his age with dark hair. Her face was too obscured by the lack of good lighting in the cave and he only knew she was girl by the skirt and her breasts. He had never seen her before in the mines. He hadn't seen any female in mines before.

He didn't take the time to study her. He snapped round and tried to move forward to the redguard on the floor. He walked about a step before he was immediately cut off by a voice. The voice wasn't loud or booming. It wasn't a yell of surprise or an indigent roar. It was subtle sound that somehow managed to fill the entire room and silence all in it with minimal effort.

"Tut, tut, tut. What have we here?" All the guards, including the one in the middle, in the room immediately snapped into more formal regimented poses. One even began to salute before his hand was quickly slapped down. All the prisoners began to shuffle away from the entrance of the room and looked down at the floor. Slowly and gracefully, dressed fine white cotton breeches and a silk purple shirt laced with golden thread, entered K'vlor, the khajiit who ran the slave mine.

The guard in the centre immediately stepped forward, all violent desires seemingly removed from his body in a single moment. "This slave was bein' unruly, sir, so I was dissiplin' 'im." There was an almost reverence to the way he acted.

"Disciplining," The cat corrected. He stepped forward with all the elegance of a predator hunting its prey, his every step lithe and measured. His yellow eyes were focused, not on the guard but on the redguard. He walked past the guard and crouched down by the slave. The man had turned over and was now lying on his back, matching the cat's stare. "Get up."

The slave steadily rose to his feet and cat did the same, pushing off his knees. When both men were stood up Elgar realised how big the cat man really was. He hadn't much of a comparison last time but now he saw how large the khajiit's shoulders and arms were. The redguard may have been taller but it was obvious who held the power in the conversation. "What is your name, slave?"

"Ralak." The redguard didn't even look at the cat as he answered.

The cat began to circle the slave, inspecting him, while he spoke to the guard. "How exactly was this man annoying you so much that you took it upon yourself to publicly shame him in front of the others here?" The cat had made it all the way round the slave and settled his heavy gaze on the guard. The imperial shifted slightly and looked down at his feet, all previous vigour and enthusiasm gone from his form.

" Like I said 'e was talkin' back, sir, 'e was bein' -."

The cat cut him off with a hiss. "Was I talking to you?" The guard blinked and was visibly put off balance by the question. Even in his concussive state, Elgar realised what was going on before the guard did.

"Wha'!? 'e's a slave!"

"But he has more sense and understanding in him than you do, apparently." The guard was silent after that. He focused his outrage off the cat and instead on Ralak as he replied to the cat's question.

"He was beating workers for no other reason than to satiate his sadistic desires and pleasures." The redgaurd said it all in a such a monotone and emotionless voice it made it hard to believe that he had been the one on the receiving end of the those 'sadistic desires'.

The khajiit nodded to himself and seemed to think it over for moment. The guard made to say something, probably some feeble excuse to cover his arse, but K'vlor's singular upheld finger was enough to silence him before he spouted more inane dribble.

Everyone in the room, save Ralak, was staring at K'vlor, waiting for him to act, waiting for him to speak. It felt him an eternity, drawn out even further out by the dull throbbing in the back of Elgar's head that pulsed every time he moved his head. _'Is he even going to fucking do-'_.

Elgar's internal question was cut short when K'vlor backhanded Ralak across the face.

"He may be a sadistic imbecile but he is still in my employ, and you would do well to remember that next time you feel like expressing your belief of injustice." With that the cat left.

* * *

 **K'vlor**

The little spider crawled along the edge of the table, on the precipice of falling, but still its tiny little legs carried it forward. K'vlor watched intently as the bug made its way to the end of the oak table. The spider came to the end of the table and jumped off the edge and began to spin its web, lacing it down towards the roughhewn rock floor. The critter eventually found its way to the floor and then quickly began to ascend up the thread it had just laid, leaving yet another on top. K'vlor marvelled at the beauty and dedication of the little thing.

A knock at his thin parting of wood that acted as a door broke his concentration, and his good mood. His feline eyes darted up and he took a deep long breath at who he saw. The guard, the moronic one who had decided that today had been a good day to measure his dick by waving around some kind of misplaced authority.

The imperial nervously looked at his employer, his eyes darting to the spider that had just reached the table again. He tried and failed to hide and gulp as he made some kind of perverse connection to the stare that K'vlor had been giving the spider. "Uh sorry ta be botherin ya while ya… eatin'." He made to move but a slowly raised finger from K'vlor stopped him from escaping the cat's lair.

"What do you people think of me, that I eat spiders and drink the blood of orphans? I am perfectly civilised, more than can be said for some in this wretched landscape at least."

"Beggin ya pardon , sir, you did a punch man through the stomach last week for talking back to you." The guard seemed to regret that he had said that as soon as K'vlor's cold hard stare fell on him. He sputtered and began to formulate the best excuse his little brain could muster, before K'vlor rose to his feet and quickly kicked his chair back, the wooden carpentry clattering against the wall.

K'vlor gritted his teeth with pretend anger, his mouth raised and showing his sharp feline teeth. In all honesty K'vlor didn't care what the imperial said or did. No he just enjoyed making people fear him, and the best way to do that was to be unpredictable and irrational. "And what exactly would you be doing. Right. Now?" Each word was expressed with false anger.

The imperial gulped and K'vlor smelt the stench of sweat brim form the man. "Talkin' back. I'm sorry sir I didn't mean it."

K'vlor let his mouth rest and he released the fake anger from his posture. He gestured for the man to step forward and began to walk round desk. The imperial hesitantly made his way forward. When the man had approached to within arm's reach, K'vlor asked him a question.

"Do you know what I was called before I came to this wretched place?"

The guard straightened and seemed glad that he would be able to say at least one thing right. "The Spider, sir."

"Good and do you know why?" He reached out and placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

The imperial glanced at it uncertainly but answered anyway. "Cus ya built a web of people that work for ya."

K'vlor squeezed the man's shoulder and chuckled slightly. "Close but wrong. I did have a web of people who worked for me." The cat leant forward until he was whispering the man's ear. "The real reason? With that web I can find anyone, hurt anyone, _control_ anyone." The man gulped for a third time. The cat's tone suddenly became much harder. "Act like that again and I'll make sure your sister never gets the medicine you keep spending your money on. Understand?" The man nodded furiously. "Good. Now get out." The man scampered out of the room, leaving K'vlor alone.

The khajiit turned and looked at the spider that had made its web under the table. He slowly crouched down until he was at eye level with creature. He raised his clawed fingers out and swiftly severed all the threads. The tiny spider fell to the floor, trapped in its own creations.

K'vlor whispered to the ting bug. "There is only room for one of us to spin our webs in this world.


	4. Chapter 3 - Usurper

**Yeah it took a while. It will probably take longer for the next one.**

 **Thanks to The Stann, Golden and LM.**

* * *

 _"A usurper always distrusts the whole world." Vittorio Alfieri._

Chapter 3 – Usurper.

 **Tio**

206 4th era.

He may have been all over Tamriel, but the smell of the sea never changed. The thick salt that broke into his nostrils excited the younger man that still resided in Tio's mess of a soul. It had been far too long since he had stretched his sea legs. No amount of sneaking around and stealing, which was definitely fun in its own right, could amount the pure bliss that he felt when he sat in a crows nest and simply stared out at the endless expanse of the ocean before him.

The sun was beating down on him with all its power but it did not crush his spirit. If anything it invigorated him. The heat and light warmed his scales and he felt the power seep into his body.

He was not wearing his disguise ring, there was no need on the ship, money had made sure that no one would ever talk, at least until the gold ran out. He was dressed in light breeches and a dark wrap, covering the top of his head.

His bow, Nightingale and Guildmaster armours were all stored in his cabin behind four different enchantments and illusions. His short sword was strapped to his side and he had could easily summon more daggers if needed.

In his nest high above the water, he finally let his guard down for a few brief moments. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. _'It has been far too long. Maybe once this is all over we can all got back to sailing the seas.'_ He knew it was a futile ambition, the path they had started ended with either knife in the back or a sword in the gut. But he let himself hope anyway. When it came down to it Tio was an optimist.

He had to be.

* * *

 **Adrya**

Adrya awoke to a raging bear of a headache and a heavy rocking sensation that swung her loosely from side to side. She felt she had gained a stronger insight into the life of a child's doll; beaten, bruised and thoroughly begrudged.

As she strained to sit up and tried to open her eyes, she felt her body rock to the left against her own will. She immediately reached out to the sides of her bed to try to steady herself against this unseen force, but her hands made no contact and instead sailed through the air with no resistance.

She tried not to panic as she steadily opened her eyes, much to the distaste of the massive thumping in her skull. _'What the hell has that lizard done?!'_

The answer she got was somewhat anti-climactic as she slowly looked around the room she was in for the first time and saw that she was hung up inside a cabin looking room, on top of a thick piece of material. A hammock she believed they were called, a bed used by sailors.

She very carefully, minding both her throbbing head and her aching back, descended from the swinging deathtrap to the solid, stable, lovely wooden floor. When her feet hit the planks she was finally able look around the room properly.

Apart from the accursed flap of cloth that hung about half way from the ceiling, there was only a wooden chest in the room. The chest was tied down to a few hooks on the floor and before she could even form the question in her mind the entire room rocked to the side again and she stumbled to keep herself from falling flat on her arse. The pain in her head spiked as she tried to hold herself up.

After a few moments of holding her head and gritting her teeth against the pain, she eventually looked up again and looked at the chest on the floor. On top of the chest, something she hadn't noticed before was a note scrawled in very plain text with the message, "Once you wake up, get dressed and get up on to the top deck. Don't bother with the disguise, the crew have been bribed and won't ask questions."

She placed the note to the side and opened up the chest. What was inside made her grin even with the pain that came from contorting her face.

* * *

A few minutes later she was on the top deck of the small boat. She was dressed in a loose shirt and a pair of breaches that tied at the waist, her ebony dagger was tied to her back and Takk was strapped to her left hip. With her weapons at her side, the thudding pain in her head was slightly more bearable. Slightly.

She raised her hand up to her head and tried to shield her eyes from the glare off the ocean. _'He wasn't kidding when he said it made the hangover worse.'_ She gritted her teeth and beared the pain. It was definitely one of the worst hangovers she'd had but she was a nord, or at least half one, she was made for sterner things. Besides, her ring was helping by slightly sapping the pain.

She had never bothered to ask how the ring did that. Storm had explained that the ring was designed to allow further control of Shifting, but he hadn't been able to understand why the ring seemed to draw away her pain. However it was the artefact of a Daedric prince, so you never could fully know what it was meant to do.

She went to the edge of the boat to grab a handhold to support herself. She looked over the deck of the ship and tried to catch sight of her uncle. The crew of the ship was relatively small, numbering just over a dozen, but she still hadn't had a chance to talk to any of them since getting on the boat. She did notice two of the younger nord men try to catch her eye. She groaned inwardly, just what she needed when she was hungover.

It took all of twenty seconds for one of the men to saunter up, pulling off his cotton shirt and trying to look casual about it at that. She dropped her hand from her head to try and get a better judge of him. She nearly scolded herself for being overly paranoid, but then memories of running through sewers in the middle of the night dodging Akaviri Skooma Adicts began to resurface, and she quickly cast aside those concerns.

The nord had a fair amount of muscle on his body, she had to admit. His shoulders were fairly large and his chest was ridged sharply. His long brown hair was tied up in a ponytail behind his head and he had a few days of stubble bristling on his jawline. What caught her attention the most was the pendant that hung on his neck. It was crudely hewn from a stone but the runes inscribed and the shape was obviously a symbol of Talos.

She gritted her teeth again. Images of Talos were forbidden by the Empire, or rather their puppet masters, and it was paramount to treason to wear symbols of the Man-God. But, she had to remind herself, they had departed from Windhelm, the bastion of the Stormcloak army and one of the last places left in Tamriel where the worship of Talos was not outright banned.

The nord noticed her staring and he grinned, most likely thinking she was looking elsewhere on his … perfect body.

"You seem a little lost?" His voice was both rough and controlled at the same time. She didn't respond to him, but he was not deterred. "I can show you round if you like." He moved and leant on the edge next to her.

She rested her hand on Takk. Not threateningly, but enough to get the message across. "Nice blade, mind if I have a look?" She blinked. She had met cocky, cockdriven men before, but none of them lasted past when Takk was introduced. But the nord seemed to take it all in his stride; his posture, voice and face all calm.

She tried to get a read on him, but couldn't. From one view he looked just like any other man looking for a 'bedmate', but from another he looked like a warrior, staking out a potential foe. He was in one moment, both terrifying and exhilarating.

She made to draw Takk, not sure if she was going to show it off or shove it in, when there was thump and something landed next to her. She instinctively went to draw her weapon as the boat tilted and rocked slightly.

Crouched on the deck of the ship, evidently having jumped from high up, was her lizard of an uncle. His head raised and smile arrogant, she sighed heavily and released her grip on her blade. In the corner of her eye she saw some shimmer of faint golden light, but when she looked at the nord, he was simply looking down at the argonian with mild interest.

The argonian looked from Adrya to the half-naked nord and then his eyes rested on her for a long second while his grin slowly widened. Adrya groaned and raised her hand to her face, partly to display a rapidly rising level of annoyance and partly to hide the blush that spread on her cheeks.

"I hope you don't mind intruding on your seduction of my beautiful niece for a few minutes while I discuss some family matters." The lizard looked to the nord with a strange mix of mischievous deceit and false earnestness. "I hope you understand; I would never like to crush budding romance so early if it wasn't urgent, you have my sincere apologies." The assassin had the gall to bow as if the nord were some sort of king. Adrya held her face tighter, determined not to let the blush show. She looked over to nord, hoping to find comfort in his embarrassment at being called out.

Her heart sank and she felt the butterflies dance in her stomach as she realised the nord was most definitely not embarrassed. "But of course. I accept your apology and I find myself in a position where I must apologise to you, if only I had known of there was a family matter I would have waited until later to try to begin the courting your alluring niece." She didn't know which smile was worse.

"Ah yes, well I am most humbled by your understanding in the matter. I hope you understand I am in full support of your efforts." The lizard rose from his bow and smiled to the nord, amicable and alamingly close to honest. Adrya felt the heat rise in her cheeks. _'That's not fair you bastards. I am stood right here. Stop talking about me like that!'_

"Why thank you, your blessing means a lot to me." The thief nodded in agreement. The nord looked directly at Adrya and she immediately felt the butterflies in her stomach set alight "I hope to converse with you at some point later this evening if your family matter is resolved by then. Until then I must bid you farewell." The nord winked his deep green eye as turned and walked away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Tio spoke up, hands on his hips, looking very pleased with himself. "What a lovely young man, I'm sure he would make a fine husb-." The argonian was cut off by the stream of weak punches aimed in his general direction. He easily dodged, the smile never wavering.

"I hate you! IhateyouIhateyouIhateyouIhateyou!" As her voice rose she looked up just at the wrong moment to see the nord stood on the other side of the deck, smiling with just the corner his mouth. The burning butterflies on her stomach turned into rampaging dragons as her arms fell limp and her harsh words faded as she looked down at the deck.

She heard the light chuckle emanate from the thrice damned lizard.

It took about a minute before Adrya calmed down and the redness on her cheeks has receded to a manageable level. She looked up to her uncle and saw that he had moved to the railing of the ship and was staring out to sea.

She looked over the argonian and she noticed something very interesting. The thief was only wearing a pair of light brown breeches, a dark blue cotton wrap around the top his head and his short sword, yet somehow his skin still seemed to shimmer with rippling shadows.

"How can you do that?" She asked moving up to lean on the rail next to the assassin.

The lizard responded without looking up from the ocean. "Well it's really quite fun."

"Not that," Adrya sighed heavily and shoved him slightly. "The thing with the shadows."

It took a few moments before the lizard grunted slightly and pushed himself off the rail and turned to look at Adrya. "Storm has taught you how to notice magic right?"

She turned on the railing and looked at him. "Yeah, I can identify non obvious magic at a distance of around twenty metres and then I can tell the School from about five."

The thief nodded slightly. "OK, then try to figure out what this is then." He gestured down to his bare chest.

Adrya kept her eyes on the lizard's' eyes for a few seconds before looking down at his chest.

Experiences of casting and detecting magic were very subjective and changed from person to person. Or so she was told. Storm had described his method of casting like mixing different coloured lights and creating something new. She had heard that Ragnar saw everything magical as words written in a different language that he assembled to create the desired effect. Personally she experienced every hint of magic like different smells. Casting a spell for her was as simple as remembering the scent it had produced or trying to imagine a new one.

She understood, after several frustrating lessons, that all of these methods were imperfect ways of understanding what magic was. In principle magic was the construction of weaves that coalesced together to form a conduit through which magicka was needed to perform a task or function. Less powerful spells, which were generally taught to novices, were designed to be less complicated but would need a more constant supply of magic to function. More complicated weaves were made to have a certain amount of magicka dumped into it then it would simply hold its function, until the imperfect weave eventually decayed.

In theory, the more a spell-caster a used a spell or a similar group, for example a School, the easier the spell became and the longer it could last. As the caster gradually got to know the weave's construction better and better, they learnt where they could make changes to structure of the weave to streamline it.

Aside from the 'Gift' she had inherited from her father, Adrya knew only a few spells, mostly the basics of the Destruction School and how to summon a bound dagger in case she was disarmed, as well as a few other miscellaneous weaves like how to create a floating light or how to detect magic.

She drew from her memory the smell that she knew as Detect Magic. The spell was one from the school of Alteration and so it smelt like forest grove, with trees surrounding her on all sides. She focused on the smell and then as soon as it reached its pinnacle it dissipated and was replaced by four new smells.

One that smelt like honey came from Takk and she knew it was because was enchanted with a spell that fell into the Restoration School, fortifying her abilities. Another emanated from the ring she wore this smell was more confusing; due to its origin the spell was very hard to assign a School, so every time she came close to figuring out the smell it shifted and she was left with a new one. There was a faint source of magic, but it was too far to fully figure out; she assumed it was probably a magic item that one of the crew had managed to scrounge from somewhere and were most likely unaware of its property.

The smell that came from Tio was both very interesting and highly confusing. It smelt like wood smoke, showing its place in the Illusion School, but the smell was different to what she had expected. At first she had suspected that the spell was some kind of invisibility, but it was too thick smelling to be something like that. She had then thought that it was some form of hallucination inducing effect that caused one to see shadows, but that was also wrong.

As far as she could tell, the spell simply replaced the concept of Tio as a noteworthy thing, such as a charging bear, with a meaningless thing, like a leaf blowing past. If fully activated Tio would not be replaced by the image behind him as invisibility spells did. It would just stop perceivers from thinking that Tio was remotely relevant. Their eyes would see him, their minds would recognise him, they just wouldn't consider that fact important. It was one of the most intricate spells she had ever seen, but unlike her ring, it had a definable purpose. It was also the closest example she had ever seen to a perfect weave.

Adrya let go of her weave and allowed herself a few moments to catch her breath and allow for her small reserves to refill. She have been taking lessons from Storm but her magicka pool was barely above what was considered normal for someone of her age and race. She doubted she could ever become an accomplished mage, but given enough time and practice she might be able to use it to enhance her combat potential.

"How the hell are you doing that?" Adrya asked as soon as her mind had cleared. Every time she cast a spell that required at least half of her reserve she would start to feel light headed.

"I'm not. My boss does." Tio said moving forward and leaning against the rail again.

"My father is doing that?" She knew her father had access to some obscure magic, but an enchantment of this scale was definitely beyond him. She doubted that even Ragnar could come close to the spell.

Tio sighed heavily and looked at her with empty eyes. "First of all I do not work for my brother, I work for the principle he strives for. I meant my lady Nocturnal; I am a Nightingale after all. Surely you don't think I wouldn't be repaid for my contract." Adrya was sure at least some of that was even true.

Adrya was about to ask more questions but before she could her uncle raised a finger and shushed her lightly. At first she thought he was trying to pull a joke on her but then she saw how his entire body was tensed. She tried to follow where he was staring and after a few moments of intense staring she saw what he had seen.

"I think it would prudent if you were to run and tell the captain that we may have some unpleasant company."

Adrya didn't bother asking how he could tell at this distant. He was an assassin and thief it was his job to notice things. "Who is it?"

The Marshal looked at her once again. "It's the Thalmor."

* * *

 **Kyneric**

Swords were not made to be held above hearths and stared at with whispered awe at the blood spilt across the blade. Swords were not meant to be shiny and fancy. Swords were not made to look pretty when held in the hands of a valiant knight. Swords were made for three purposes: to kill, to fight and to conquer.

It seemed to Kyneric that everyone else in the world did not believe as he did, or did not want to believe as he did. They thought that the efficiency of death was not the true beauty of a blade. Some thought that it was the amount of blood spilt that made a blade. Numbers meant nothing to a sword. Swords desired only one thing: to be used to their fullest extent. In a strange way that meant a sword was more alive than those it cut down.

However for Kyneric his blade was nothing special. It was not born in the forge of a nordic master-smith or in the crucible of a orc weapon master. It was nothing more than a longsword forged out regular steel. The workmanship was shoddy in places: the balancing not fully in line. But it was the only sword Kyneric had ever held and it was most likely the only one he ever would.

The scraping noise from a whetstone as it ran along the edge of a double headed axe brought Kyneric from his meditation. He looked up from his cross-legged position and stared across the impromptu arena at his opponent. The orcish chief grinned a wide cruel grin from behind his opened visor. Mauhulakh was not a nice orc, even to those of his kin, but against Kyneric, an outsider and bastard, even by orcish standards, he was especially harsh and cruel. He had taken to beating Kyneric if things did not go his way. Kyneric had never fought back or even resisted. He had simply waited, slowly training with the shoddy blade he had managed to buy from a passing trader for a huge amount of orichalcium.

Kyneric reclosed his eyes and went back to his meditation. From the other side of the ring he heard a scoffing sound. Mauhulakh and his sycophants seemed to find Kyneric's form of battle preparation amusing; he assumed it was because they had not one idea what he was truly doing.

He was praying

Kyneric was not religious; he believed that there were gods in the world that controlled the fates, but he did not believe that he should badger them with his every complaint and issue. Why should they care if the mine was running dry or if he went hungry for the third day in a row?

No. His prayers went not to any god. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that he wasn't praying to any real god. His prayers were sent to his blade. He wordlessly implored the blade to allow him to wield it for this battle. He cast his soul and heart to the blade to give him the chance to hold it in his grip.

There was no response from the blade. Of course there wasn't: it was a lump of pointy metal.

Once his prayer was done he slowly opened his eyes and looked back across the ring to his chief. Mauhulakh was pulling himself out of his chair as he was handed his great axe. His orcish armour shifted and rolled as he raised his arm. The armour he wore must have weighed him down heavily but he didn't show it. He grasped his weapon firmly and slammed down his visor with the other hand.

Kyneric carefully raised himself to his feet. A cold wind buffeted through the mountain stronghold, the icy air sucking the warmth from his bare skin. He wore no armour, instead he was only clothed in a simple pair of cotton shorts. He wore no boots to protect his feet from the rocky uneven ground.

"Are you so eager to face your death that you insist on going out the same way you came in?" Mauhulakh sneered from across the hastily constructed arena, buffered around the curved sides by thick wooden stakes. Kyneric did not respond to the bigger orc's taunt.

Kyneric gripped his sword and lifted it up into his hands, holding the blade straight up, point aimed at the sky. Mauhulakh hefted his axe into his hands and brought it in front of his chest in a battle stance meant for chiefs and kings. Not for warriors.

Kyneric breathed in.

He lunged forward taking the brief moment before the chief could settle himself in fully. He swung with his poorly weighted sword in a wide arc, bringing the blade out against Mauhulakh's left hand side. The chief instinctively pushed forward with his axe using the shaft as an impromptu shield. Kyneric let the blade make contact.

There was a loud crack as the weapons smashed together, but Kyneric took no time to even glance at his blade before allowing the force from the recoil to spin with the blade held tight in his grasp. He span on the spot, letting the power of the deflected blow direct him round for a flat strike against the right flank of the orc. The blade made contact and there was a high pitch screech from the metal as sparks flew in every direction. Kyneric allowed himself the briefest chance to look down at the metal.

He had managed to catch his blade in between two of the larger plates, cutting into the tanned hide beneath. The material was not cut yet but there was a definite incision.

There was a flash of movement to his right and he turned too late to catch the blunt end of the shaft to the jaw. He felt at least one tooth fall out of place as he rolled back, out of the way of the strike that would surely follow.

He rolled himself up to his feet a metre away as the thick orcish axe head was brought down into the rock, carving a slice of the uneven ground out where Kyneric had been moments before. He gave himself no reprieve before charging back into the fray.

He lunged forward once more, his feet leaving the ground for few moments as he jumped clear of the ground and brought his sword high over his head. He must of have looked like some crazed lunatic, giving his opponent such a huge opening.

Mauhulakh fell for the bait like a fool, bringing his axe up in a wide arc aiming for Kyneric's unarmoured ribs. Lightning fast, Kyneric's blade came down and blocked the axe from cutting into his flesh. He did, however, get pushed sideways.

He went with the axe, coming round in wide semicircle before crashing into the ground next Mauhulakh. He heard something break in his chest. Before the pain could arrive he was already slashing out against the overextended orc, slicing into the already weakened part of his armour on the right hand side.

The incision was clean and he heard a grunt from Mauhulakh has the blade sank an inch into flesh. A small amount of blood began the drip from the wound.

Mauhulakh's axe came down heavily, swung straight for Kyneric's chest. The fire in Kyneric's lungs gave him the drive to push off his blade. As his hand let go, he flew to the left as the blade dug further into the flesh of the orc. The chief gave another grunt of pain and frustration as his axe missed the bastard again. Kyneric rolled backwards onto his feet and brought himself down into the crouch as Mauhulakh straightened up.

"Foolish boy," even beneath the visor Kyneric could hear that the orc was more angry than hurt. "You will die just as you mother did, without dignity." Mauhulakh pulled the shoddily made blade from his side and threw it to his right, away from Kyneric. "Come face me like a true orc or not at all." Blood began to flow freely down the orc's side.

There was a brief pause before Mauhulakh charged forward, axe head swinging back and forth in heavy, furious arcs, each a killing a blow, but each missing Kyneric's unburdened frame as he dodged from side to side.

Each missed strike only gave the orc more fury and rage, adding to his speed and power until all that was left for Kyneric was to keep backing up until he was nearly upon the stakes at the edge.

He saw the shift in the orc's form as he realised his advantage had come. He had cornered the bastard, pinned him in a place he could no longer run from.

But Mauhulakh had forgotten something, bastards live to run, to hide themselves from the world. He should have known that you should never, ever, corner a bastard.

As Mauhulakh brought his axe down in a final, rage filled strike, Kyneric rolled forward, coming up underneath the orc as his axe hit the ground. The chief spun round immediately, rage boiling over, his axe coming round in huge swing, aimed for Kyneric.

But Kyneric was not there. The axe sailed past as Kyneric crouched down.

As soon as the axe was out of the way, Kyneric's elbow shot up and impacted right at the weak spot in his armour. He felt a sharp pain shoot up his arm as it dug into the wound. Blood spilt from the wound and Kyneric's other hand shot out and cupped as much as he could.

Mauhulakh righted himself just in time for some of his own blood to splatter against the thin slot he had for vision. He shook his head a few times before quickly realising it was not coming off soon. He ripped his helmet.

Kyneric punched him across the jaw. There was a crack as the chief stumbled to catch his footing, but Kyneric would not give him chance. His left knee flew up and cracked against the weakened spot. He felt the pain lance from down his leg, but he knew it was nothing to what the chief was feeling as Mauhulakh rocked forward. Blood spilled from his mouth as Kyneric smacked the chief's temple with his right elbow.

Mauhulakh's hand instinctively flew up to shield his head. Kyneric leaned back on his weakened left knee and kicked Mauhulakh straight in the chest.

The orc stumbled back a few steps before falling over. As his arse hit the floor the back of his head was impaled by one of the thick spikes, exiting from his right eye in splatter of gore over Kyneric's chest.

Kyneric breathed out.

He looked round the ring at all the orcs there. Some were shocked at his display of power. Others seemed lost in the mid distance.

Kyneric hobbled to where his sword was on the floor. He picked it up and hefted it over his shoulder. He turned around and addressed the tribe with an emotionless voice. "Mauhulakh is dead, bend the knee, or meet the same fate."

He didn't wait to see if they did, he just hobbled to the small shack that was his home.


	5. Chapter 4 - Futility

**Well this is unexpected, I actually uploaded somewhat when I intended to. Hmmmm... something must be wrong with me.**

 **As always thanks to Stann, Golden and LM. Mostly for having the patience to not murder for being so horribly behind schedule.**

* * *

 _"Death, only, renders hope futile." Edgar Rice Burroughs_

Chapter 4 – Futility.

 **Elgar**

206 4th era.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, well as good as can been. You?"

"Not bad."

Since getting to the mines, talking with Elise was the closest thing Elgar had close to normality. If you ignored the brutalisation, the harsh forced labour and iron clasps. Elise had been the one to initiate their conversation after he and Furis had helped her tend to Ralak's wounds. Apparently the nord girl and the redguard man had some kind of relationship similar to siblings.

They shuffled together toward the front of the line. Elgar may have been a pickpocket and charlatan for all of his life, but somehow the meals in the cave were even worse than those he had scrounged before. Well, that was when he wasn't able to eat with Furis, Ralak or Elise. _'Good company makes good food.'_ He wasn't entirely sure where he had heard that but somehow it felt a lot more powerful in the cave.

After a few more minutes of inane conversations that really did nothing else apart from alleviate their boredom, they made their way to the front of the line and were served two bowls filled with a brown coloured broth that somewhat smelled of wet skeever.

They moved round and walked back down the line. After looking for a few moments Elise nudged and gestured to where Furis and Ralak were sat eating their food. They made their way over and when they got to the spot on the rock floor that the two men had taken, Furis stood up and embraced the pair of them in big bear hug. Elgar was used to his adoptive father's form of expressing friendship, but he couldn't help but feel Elise tighten next to him. It was really depressing but basically inevitable; she was the only girl in the cave.

If Furis noticed her reaction he didn't show it.

After Furis finally released them, the pair sat down and Ralak nodded in acknowledgement. Before Elgar got anywhere in to his meagre meal, Furis spoke up.

"I was just telling Ralak about that time you robbed the Jarl of Solitude." Furis looked Elgar with an expression like a mother eager to have their three year old perform a ballad for a group of distinguished bards. Pushy but still loving.

Elgar took a spoonful of "stew" and tried to not notice the three pairs of eyes locked on him. Elgar, as subtly as he could, glanced up and looked at Furis. The bear of a man was still smiling beneath his thick brown beard, his eyes glinting with mischief. _'You bastard.'_

"It wasn't even that big of a deal, all I did was take a bottle of wine from his cellar. Why do you keep bringing it up?" He focused heavily on his stew and just wished that everyone would drop it. _'Why am I embarrassed? I've been a thief my entire life, why am I so awkward now?'_

"Ah you sell yourself far too short." Furis sat back and spread his arms wide. Elgar groaned inwardly, this was exactly how he acted when he was running a scam on some merchant. Next was the 'proper speech' as he put it. "This endeavour was of such grand proportions and extreme daring that even the Grey Fox himself would throw off his cowl in shame of his inferiority." Elgar strained against every instinct to smash his hand to his forehead.

A few other slaves in the cavern had turned round with minimal interest as Furis' extravagance grew larger with each heartbeat. The guards, on the edge of the cavern, were all pulling faces that looked like man who was listening but didn't want to be seen listening. Ralak was sat with his head tilted ever so slightly, seemingly contemplating what had been said and judging Furis' display. Elise was staring at Furis, completely caught up in the story he was unfolding.

When his eyes laid on her for a few hearbeats she seemed to sense his gaze and turned and flashed a small grin. Elgar felt his chest tighten slightly. He immediately looked down. _'Why are you acting like this, you've talked to girls before, stop acting like a milk drinker.'_

"This is tale of grandeur and bravery of which even I find hard to believe, yet I was there to witness it." Furis lowered his body down and began to speak in a loud whisper, akin to the style of a troupe of actors they had met in Kvatch. Elgar continued to stare intently into his bowl and wished that he could disappear. _'What have I done to annoy the gods?'_

"It began on a dark and stormy night." It happened at noon on a clear skied day.

"Elgar and I were hiding in the city after having been chased out of Morthal." Furis was getting drunk in a tavern while Elgar got bored.

"When I heard of talk of an expensive bottle of wine in the Jarl's personal cellar. A wine that had aged since before Tiber Septim was a man." It had been four years old.

"I was injured after we had fought of pack of wolves in our flight." Furis had been drunk under the table after failing to drink the pants off a young wench.

"So it was up to Elgar here to risk his neck to find the wine and return it so we could pay for passage into High Rock." Steal the wine or get cut open by a stab happy skooma dealer.

"Elgar set out in to the night to secure our passage." Elgar got lost for half an hour, and then eventually found his way to the palace.

"He sneaked into the Blue Palace beneath the very noses of the guards there." He spent ten minutes squeezing his lanky frame though a small open window.

"He slid past danger multiple times and evaded capture through cunning." He nearly walked in to the Jarl's privy while it was in use.

"He slowly made his way carefully through the labyrinth of the Blue Palace." He got lost three times.

"Eventually he found the cellar." He walked past it twice.

"But alas it was protected by a whole phalanx of guards, each and every one trained to hunt and kill thieves." There were two barely awake guards.

"He had to use every ounce of his cunning to outwit the guards to allow him to slip past beneath their very noses." He had pushed over a vase in the next room and got the two guards yelled at for not manning their posts properly.

"Yet his troubles were not done, for the lock on the door was of such great delicacy that the Grey Fox would not be able to pick it." The handle had been a little stiff.

"Once he had secured the wine he slid his way back through the Blue Palace and to my side so that we may leave before out captors found us." That part was pretty much true, aside from getting lost on the way out.

Furis gave a deep and almost royal bow. There was a quiet moment when Furis stayed in his bowed position. There was no applause, no cheering. Anyone else would have thought that the prolonged bow was just part of the show, but Elgar knew Furis almost better than he knew himself. He was a showman, he would always wait for the applause, no matter how long it took. _'Oh for Talos' sake, what did he expect?'_

Eventually the silence was broken by a light discontented murmur. It wasn't much but it was enough for Furis to stand up straight again. Elgar noticed his hand reach slightly towards where he would keep his hat to collect coins, before stopping and instead turned into a slight wave, the grin still plastered on his face.

Elgar felt a slight twinge in his chest. It wasn't obvious but Fuirs was not making eye contact with his adopted son. For his talk of smiling in dismay, Furis was still an actor at his core; he needed his audience to truly be alive.

Slowly the small crowd dispersed, one or two at a time. It took a few minutes before the four of them were left alone again. Ralak was eating his stew with the same impassive face he seemed to always have. Furis was still stood up joking about the tale with whoever would listen until Elise asked him a question.

"When did this all happen?" Elise asked in a small voice that sounded far too innocent for the surrounding they found themselves in. Furis turned to her and his smile broadened. He lowered himself to a sitting position, while he answered.

"Ooh… When was it again?" Furis looked up at the roof of the cave, his face a mask of false confusion. Elgar groaned inwardly.

"It was four years ago, and _we_ weren't being chased by the way, _he_ was being chased, after he tried to swindle a Thieves Guild Enforcer out of his money." Elgar said before shoving another spoonful of broth in his mouth.

"Ah yes it was four years ago." Furis's face lit up as if he learnt something novel. "What grand time we had in that city." Elgar rolled his eyes. _'You were drunk or passed out half the time we were there; of course you thought it was 'grand'. I had to stop four different skooma dealers form stabbing you in your sleep.'_

Elise looked between the two of them, her face covered with what looked like a question. "Wait, so you're not part of the Guild?"

Furis and Elgar made eye contact. Furis's smile had waned almost imperceptibly. He tilted his head ever so lightly and made a slight nod gesture. _You tell her._

Elgar stared at Furis with the harshest stare he could muster and turned his head to the right, almost mimicking him. _Why don't you?_

Furis's smile became more forced. _You know why._

Elgar widened his eyes ever slightly and flared his nostrils. _It was_ your _fault, you tell her._

Furis's eyebrows rose slightly. _But it's embarrassing._

Elgar rolled his eyes. _Do I look like I care?_

The entire silent conversation had taken place in less than a few seconds and to another outside viewer they wouldn't have noticed anything to different.

Furis spoke up eventually. "Well you see, we were, but then we-." Elgar stared at him. "I had a disagreement with one of the Nightingales about how much to give in, after I … We completed a sweep job on a merchant's house. They were asking a far too high fee for out services, they were trying to make us so poor we had no choice but do jobs for the guild to feed ourselves."

"How much were they asking?"

Furis muttered something under his breath.

Elise leaned in and went to ask the question again before Elgar answered for his father. "Half of the earnings." Elise looked to Elgar as he spoke and then looked back to the big nord.

"That doesn't sound like much."

Furis opened to spew some more his story but the black haired boy spoke first. "It's not, in fact they had lowered the price from three quarters, because I was a child at the time." Elise looked back at the younger nord.

"Wait when was this?"

Elgar furrowed his brow. "Uh probably five years ago."

Elise looked confused. "How old are you?"

Elgar looked to Furis. "We think I'm thirteen." Furis shrugged noncommittally.

"'Think?' You're his father, surely you would have known how old is."

"Furis is my father," Elgar started tilting his head slightly. "But we are not related by blood."

"I found the boy in the wilds outside of Falkreath about thirteen years ago." Fuirs leant forward as he recounted the story. "At first I thought he had been left by his mother or father, after being chased wolves or bears, but when no one came to claim after a few weeks, I figured he had been left to die."

"That's horrible." Elise looked shocked. Her mouth agape she looked from Furis to Elgar. "So you never found out who your parents were?"

"Honestly I don't really care," Elise blinked and Elgar took that as a cue to continue. He didn't really like talking about himself that much but he could see that if he didn't explain she would continue to think about it. Ralak had looked up now and his bored eyes were laid upon him. Elgar had to repress a shiver. Ralak was good man; he had saved Elgar from several beatings since the incident with the guard and never asked for anything in return.

"I figure that they either didn't want me so they tried to kill me so I have no reason to care about them back or they both died from and I survived so there is no point to trying to find them anyway."

Elise starred him for few long moments before responding. "But they are your family, if they are alive, even they tried to kill you, don't you want to know who they are. They might feel really bad about it or maybe they were forced to do it. Anything could have happened. Maybe they still love you."

"Furis has raised me my entire life, he is the only family I have and he is all I have needed in my life so far. Just because two people fucked to make me doesn't make me, doesn't mean I owe them anything." Elise flinched at the tempered ferocity with which he spoke. He was being blunt and overly harsh but he didn't like talking about his blood family. "I'm sorry I just-."

"The boy has had it tough his entire life." Furis interrupted, his face holding a look of mild concern for his son. "I think he just prefers not to talk about it that much."

Elise nodded with understanding. The whole group went back to silence for a while. Elgar and Furis ate their food with the same gusto they had always eaten and were finished before anyone else. Elise didn't eat much else, instead she spent most of her time trying to catch Elgar's eye. Ralak just ate slowly and without too much vigour. His eyes back on the floor.

Eventually Elise spoke up and Elgar feared she was going to bring up his parents again, but instead she asked a different question. "How did you join the Guild?"

Furis sat forward once more, his arms stretching out wide, his voice hushed in a dramatic whisper. "It all began on a dark and stormy night."

* * *

 **Adrya**

Adrya took a few seconds to process what her uncle had said.

"Are kidding me? The Thalmor? What the hell are they doing here?" Adrya's questions poured out in a low whisper. They were on a nord ship from Windhelm, best not to mention the Thalmor if she valued her head.

"No and how in Oblivion should I know?" Tio was, for the first time in a while, deadly serious. His eyes were locked onto the horizon, staring at the ship as it made its way with unnatural speed towards their vessel.

"How long do you think we've got?" His eyes were obviously much better that hers at long ranges.

Tio grimaced and the red snake on his face contorted as if it had been awoken. "Not much, about one minute before the others will notice who they are and only about two minutes before they are on us."

"What are we going to do?" Adrya's hand fell to Takk and she gripped the hilt. Tio's hand came up in a gesture to hold back.

"We don't know if they are here for us, but it's more than likely. The Thalmor may not be the only big organisation that is against us, but they are definitely the largest and the second most irrespective on innocent lives, especially nord ones." Tio looked round the boat. No one else has seemed to notice the ship yet but it wouldn't be long and Adrya doubted the Captain would be overly pleased to being chased by a magic powered Thalmor ship.

"What are we going to do?" She still hadn't let go of Takk just yet.

Tio grimaced again. "If the Thalmor see me, we're screwed, they might not know me by my face, but an argonian on a nord ship is weird enough but one with a perpetual enchantment is ever weirder. It won't take much for them to start hurling fire balls. I'm gonna go have to go below deck and try to conceal my presence. You will need to stay up here, but hand over Takk, if they even so much as suspect you're a Blade, we're royally fucked."

Adrya nodded, while she hated giving up her sword, she could see his logic. "Don't go too far, if things really do get bad I want to you to be able to get up here to support me." Adrya untied Takk and handed it to her uncle. The assassin nodded, turned and walked to the stairs beneath deck.

Adrya quickly scanned the deck and found who she assumed was the Captain, steering the vessel from a huge wooden wheel. She moved quickly but not so fast as to bring too much attention. When she came to the steps, which rose up to the platform, she vaulted them two at a time.

"Ah, Lady Celcile, your servant said that you would be a while to awake." The nord took of his hat as some kind formal welcome. The man was in his early fifties and had a fair amount of grey hair in his thinning blonde mane. His eyes were steel grey and his skin was sun-bleached from a lifetime on the seas. "I am quite happy to see that you have had had a chance to talk to a few of the crew. They were most curious to know why a trader such as you would hire a humble vessel like this at such short notice."

She had nearly forgotten that the two of them had given different names and reasons to the Captain, but they had gone over the identities when they had boarded the vessel the previous night.

"Well yes, I had been recovering from bit too much ale." The smile was forced and tone utterly false but she had to keep up appearances for now. "I'm sure, being a man of your stature, you would understand it took a little while to adjust to the instability of the flow of the sea."

The nord nodded. "Aye it is, some never do find their sea legs." He tugged on his beard slightly. "Is there anything I can help with you with my Lady?"

"Well it's not really anything; I shouldn't really bring it up." She turned ever so slightly, she had no intention of leaving, but he had to think that she thought it was nothing out of order. He needed to learn of this himself, otherwise more questions would arise.

"Don't be stupid, anything I can do to help that is within my power I will." The nord smiled with a genuine smile. _'I forgot some people can actually make those.'_

"It's just that ship over there." She pointed at the dark shape on the horizon that was growing rapidly. "I was wondering if it was normal that a ship would move that quickly." The Captain turned and looked to the where she was pointing. His brows knitted together as he squinted to get a better look.

"Ah that is unnatural, aye. But not unexpected, over the last few years more ships was been using a strange type of spell that can make the ship move faster. It's wrong if you ask me, we should rely on the winds and the oars to guide us, not some fancy magic."

Adrya smiled noncommittally. "Well if you think it's nothing to worry about I will cast it from my mind." She turned to leave again but before she could walk too far the nord predictably spoke up again.

"I wouldn't say that, there are not that many people who would sail this journey that would use such spells." She turned back to the Captain and looked at him with a face of slight confusion.

"Do you think they would harm us?" She tried to lace it with a mild sense of innocence, not enough to express naivety but enough to make the Captain slightly more accepting of her lack of knowledge.

The nord grimaced slightly and looked to where the ship was coming from. It was much larger and she doubted that it would be much longer before the crew realised who it was. "Well I have no idea who they are, they could be pirates for all I know or just another merchant vessel." He called out to a crewman down below to bring his is spyglass. The young breton nodded and disappeared beneath deck before returning a few moments later with the tube.

The Captain took the spy glass and extended it out to its full length before pointing it in the direction of the approaching ship. "Ah yes," He began to comment. "It's a fairly small ship, only one mast and with that speed it's definitely magically enhanced. For some reason it's heading to us." He twisted something on the side and he tube became longer still. "The wood seems to be fairly well held together, the sails are all in good repair. The flag…Fuck!" The Captain lowered the spy glass and handed it to Adrya.

"What is it?" She took the spyglass and looked down it and got a much closer view of the ship. She could see a few Thalmor agents stood on top deck, dressed in the full coats. There was another person sat on top on the mast, holding what seemed like longbow. The elf behind the wheel of the ship was dressed head to toe in black glass armour. _'What? They have black glass now?'_ In total she could see about ten elves stood on deck and she guessed there could be up to twice that many beneath deck.

"Damn Thalmor." The nord's annoyance at the use of magic to increase the effectiveness of travel, had been completely replaced by what seemed like quite a resentment for the elves on the steadily approaching vessel. Honestly, Adrya couldn't blame him. Not because they were elves, but because they were Thalmor. It was fair to say they were the order's biggest worry and adversary. "The fucking knife eared bastard are headed straight for us!"

Adrya lowered the spyglass and turned to look at the nord. She tried to use her best concerned face. "Do they have a reason to be chasing us?"

"Apart from being knife eared assholes?" The Captain retorted. He was visibly angry and Adrya was starting to doubt that the man would be able to think straight.

"If you want I can try to talk to them and get them to move along without harrying us any further?" She tried as hard as she could not to sound too desperate to ask. He had to think that she was doing it as a favour not to take control of the vessel from under him. _'Please don't be an absolute moron, more than just your life relies on it.'_

"Ugh…I wouldn't feel comfortable letting you, no offense but what assurance do I have that you can do what you say let alone that you won't trade us for your safety?" She could see that gears turning in his head already. If it came to it he would, with no hesitation, give her up to the Thalmor. For all their posturing about loyalty, the nords knew that any Justiciar could easily destroy them with just a few incantations, and one dead was better than a whole crew.

"As for the skill required," She held up her ebony dagger. "Let's just say that this blade has killed more Thalmor than you've ever met." She wasn't entirely sure that was correct but it got the reaction she needed. " And for trust… Well you'll have to take that on faith that I'm best chance you've got."

The nord was silent for what felt like decade, and with the ship getting closer and closer every second was precious. If it came to it she was sure that she and Tio could easily make it out alive, but two people couldn't man one ship and she would prefer to not have any innocents fall. As naïve as it was she didn't want to have to cause their deaths.

"Fine you can talk to them." The Captain finally relented.

"Thank you. I'll save as many as I can."

"You better; I'll go tell the crew to follow your lead." The nord walked past her and made it to the steps before turning back and looking her over, his head slightly tilted. "Who are you? Really."

Adrya grinned slightly. "Celcile Andrson. Silk trader and unfortunately young widow. No one of real import, I'm afraid." She winked and her smile grew ever so slightly.

The Captain chuckled and walked out of sight.

Adrya snapped round and looked to where the Thalmor was getting ever closer. Her uncle had been accurate with his timings and it looked like she had about half a minute before they would be on them. They didn't seem to be overtly aggressive but then again, most mages didn't. She waved her hands above her head until she saw someone notice and then she pointed to the port side of the ship. She couldn't see any immediate reaction but she was sure they had got the message.

She made her way down the steps and walked to port side of the ship and stepped on to the railing of the ship, holding onto a rope to support her. It didn't take too long before the ship pulled up beside her. Up close she saw that the Captain had been right. The ship was rather small, about half the length of her vessel and it was in a good state. However the decks were fortunately of the same height.

As she surveyed the agents that were arrayed on the opposite ship she became acutely aware that the person on the top of the mast was no longer visible. It took barely second to cast her spell and notice the obvious signs of an invisibility spell. Not the most powerful but it would serve the purpose. _'Brilliant now I have to look out for invisible archers.'_

After a few more seconds she released the spell and focused on the crew again. "Who speaks for you?" She called out to other ship. She could easily tell who it was, but her mana reserves were not huge and she needed as much stalling time as possible to replenish what she had lost.

An elderly looking altmer stepped forward and stared up at her with a look of repressed disgust. Obviously he was not the biggest lover of nords. Especially loud, bossy looking ones. "I am Aredlin and I am in charge of this ship. Who are you?" His voice was old but in no way weak.

She took the time to properly analyse the high elf. He looked as though he was in his last quarter of his life, so for an elf he could be anywhere older than five hundred years old. His thinning white hair was close to his head and had no facial hair to speak of. His face was long and disapproving and his ears were as sharp as any of his race. His deep green eyes seemed to shine with arcane ability and aged intelligence. His body was hunched and he had to support himself with a cane but she had not doubt in her mind that he was a serious threat.

"I am Celcile, I speak for this ship. We would ask as to what you want of us?" She tried to slow her speech to match his and try to follow his tone. Largar was quite an astute tutor when it came to how to weave words.

"We have good information that a heretic and an enemy of the Empire is being harboured on this ship." At a gesture a plank of thick wood was shoved across the gap between the two ships.

 _'No messing around huh?'_ She didn't do anything to stop the plank being pushed across, but she could hear the mutterings from the crew behind her. "This is ship does not recognise the authority of the Empire let alone the Thalmor." She heard a few more mutters from the crew but this time they were of a more supportive nature. Aredlin gave her a strange look before snorting slightly.

"Here I thought this was going to a simple assignment, but then you show up." Adrya felt his gaze lock on to her soul and then she felt the unwelcome presence of another mind battering against hers. Adrya rebuffed the attack easily, but she knew now that there was no way talking out of this. "I haven't fought a Crimson Dragon in a while. Would you be so kind as to tell your friend below that he is not as concealed as he thought?"

Adrya felt a chill run down her spine. _'Fucking fucksticks.'_ The altmer's smile increased and Adrya heard the mutterings behind her shifted again. This was very bad. Mages were bad enough, but she hadn't expected one of few that could read thoughts that the Thalmor had, to be here.

The altmer had them in a corner and there was no way out but forward. Into the small group of Thalmor agents.

Adrya pretended to yawn over dramatically and stretched out her arms. "You know I really didn't want to kill anyone to day. My head is just splitting as it is. Is there no way you can simply be on your way and I don't have to get blood on my new shirt?" It was futile and she was not in any way threatening enough.

The high elf chuckled a slow raspy laugh. "I think we both know that opportunity has come and gone long ago."

"Can't blame a girl for trying." Adrya winked.

"GET DOWN!" Adrya threw herself back on to the deck and thankfully a few others followed her order. "TIO!"

She didn't need to look as she rolled back to her feet as she heard the hatch to the lower deck burst open. She threw her arm up and caught Takk just where she hoped it would be. _'He may be a dick, but he has good aim.'_

She came up to a crouch and drew Takk with one fluid motion. She may not be in her full armour, but it was good to have at least her sword back in her grip. She barely heard the light tapping noise behind her as Tio sprinted past and to the mast of the ship. "Go. I'll cover from the top."

She needed nothing else to incite her to charge straight to the edge of the ship. The plank had been kicked out of the way but the distance between the two ships was not too great and she was fairly certain she could make it. She drowned out the noise of the crew behind her panicking as she ran straight for the edge of the ship. Fortunately no one was in the way as she placed her leg on the wooden railing she had just been stood on and pushed upwards and forwards.

She flew into the sky and just as she came to the apex of her jump and her direction began to change, she reached into her mind and activated her Gift. Everything slowed to the point where it was basically still. She knew she had barely a few seconds before her magic ran out and needed to make sure her arm didn't act up so this had to be done fast.

It took a few heartbeats before she was able to see everything she needed to see. There were a dozen high elves on the deck. Three seemed to be armoured and were mostly likely infantry soldiers judging by the swords strapped to their hips. There was one she had seen earlier in full black glass, a huge mace tied to his back. Of the remaining eight, two were casting what looked like wards over themselves and their allies, five had flames starting in their hands and Aredlin was the only one not obviously casting spells.

She released the spell and time sped back to normal as she plummeted towards the ship. She crashed into a roll next to one of the mages that was casting a ward. The mage looked at her with surprise just before she chopped of his head. His blood sprayed over her but she ignored it and stepped to the side just in time to dodge a curved sword. With a swift movement she flicked the overextended strike up and pushed the elf off balance just in time for two black arrows to imbed themselves in his chest. He was dead before he hit the ground. _'One each.'_

She moved forward and thrust towards the next soldier that stood in front of her. This one however seemed more experienced than his fellow, as a shimmering purple shield flared into life in his arm. The bound shield stopped her strike and the elf used her overextension to try to get in a cut on her flank. She retracted Takk fast enough to knock away the strike, but she had been too distracted to notice, let alone dodge the shard of ice that stuck into to her back. _'I hate mages.'_

Without turning her body she looked behind her and saw Aredlin smiling with a new spike already growing in his hand. She watched as three arrows flew at him but harmlessly bounced of a ward.

She turned back to the soldier in front of her and slashed out wide with an easily noticeable swing. The elf brought up his shield but she could see he was waiting for the faint. Takk smacked into the shield and the elf made a confused look just before a bolt of fire burst against his side. It wasn't strong enough to do damage but just enough to catch him off guard. Adrya was not a good mage, especially when she used only one hand and had less than a heartbeat to cast spells, but she was pupil of Storm. He made her do much harder spells in much less time.

Taking the split second she had, she thrust forward again, aiming for the soldier's neck and this time Takk found its mark and the blade slid easily into the elf's throat. She quickly withdrew the curved blade and stepped past him and swivelled. Two more mages had fallen to arrows and the rest seemed to be focused on Tio as he ran back on forth across the side of the ship. The archer she had seen was dead on the other ship, his neck slit. _'Four to two. Bastard's probably cheating with that bow.'_

She came back around into a proper stance to face off the other sword wielder, but before she could strike the elf's head slid off his neck. Behind him was the nord that had tried to 'court' her earlier. She immediately noticed he was still bare chested and she would have been angry at herself for that but she was in battle, she didn't have time. She also noticed he was holding a plain looking two handed, steel great sword. _'Four to two to one.'_

"Mind if join in?" Somehow he looked even cockier than before. Without taking his eyes off her he stepped to the side and allowed her to step up and thrust past him an in to the neck of another mage. _'Four to three to one.'_

"As long as you don't get in the way." Adrya suddenly became acutely aware that she was stood very close to him and both of them were sweaty and breathing heavily. _'Argh! What in Oblivion is happening to me?!'_

The nord cracked a smile and moved past her and swung his sword in time to block a heavy strike from the mace of the black glass armoured one. She slid past the nord and moved in the other direction. "You take him, I'll check for more down stairs." She didn't wait for a response and instead began to run across the ship. As she did she noticed that more of the mages had been cut down and only Aredlin and another remained. The mage seemed pretty stretched, his face wild as he tried to keep a ward over the two of them, Aredlin did not seemed bothered by the death of his subordinates and instead was looking around with a face filled with interest and glee. Adrya repressed a shudder as she came to the hatch that led below deck. _'Six to three to one.'_

When she made to the hatch she ripped it up and darted down the stairs. She found the area to below to be one open room with many hammocks strung between posts. There weren't any Thalmor that she could see and she was about to head back up when she realised that she had a chance to get the edge against Aredlin. At that point she couldn't see any other way of getting a leg up against him with his wards and his unknown retinue of spells.

Breathing in heavily and taking a few seconds to steady herself. She took one last breath and Shouted.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

The fire erupted from her mouth in and swelled to be as tall as she was before colliding with the wooden hull of the ship. The orange and red flames washed over the ship like a wave and it took less than a few heartbeats before the far side of the hull was covered in flames.

She stumbled back as the smoke began to rise and reached for her chest. That Shout, for obvious reasons, took quite a heavy toll on her throat and she had no water to soothe her burning neck. She would just have to deal with the pain until she could get back to the ship.

She took a few more seconds to take a few more shaky, pain inducing breaths, before pushing the hatch back up and stepping back onto the deck.

The black glass armoured mace wielder was still locked in heavy combat with the nord. Each time their weapons clashed sparks shot off. The nord didn't seem to have any major injuries despite his lack of armour and she couldn't really tell if the black glass armoured one had been hit. Unfortunately it looked like the nord was using a stance far more suited to heavily armoured fighters and Adrya doubted it was anything less than luck that stopped the mace from catching him in the head.

Aredlin was still up but his fellow mage was impaled by a nest of arrows that sprouted from his abdomen. Aredlin was still stood crouched over his walking cane with a ward that deflected the almost constant volley of arrows aimed for his back. _'Seven to three to one.'_

Adrya held up Takk and pointed its tip at the altmer's neck form across the ship. "Your ship and your crew are lost, surrender now and you and your man can live." She barely got the ultimatum out before the pain in her throat flared once again. She felt her grip on Takk waver for a brief moment and she knew she didn't have long. _'This really is not the time.'_

The mage looked at the warrior, his head tilted, with an expression of sick curiosity. Once again she felt another presence press against her mind. She pushed back against the presence and luckily managed to rebuff the attempt without passing out. The altmer chuckled to himself and his smile widened even further.

"I think I'm good right here. Dreslinal is more than capable of squashing your friend over there and unlike you I'm not on a time limit." Adrya's blood froze in her veins as the altmer purposely looked at her right arm. If he knew about her arm than she was screwed. She had doubted that he would have relented anyway but now that he knew she had barely any time before her arm began to spasm uncontrollably.

"Your ship is burnt, your men are dead; I knew the Thalmor were harsh but I didn't know you were heartless as well." It was feeble but if she could break his concentration for even a few seconds then at least one of Tio's arrows could get through.

Aredlin's smile was sustained and there was no noticeable reaction to her meagre insult. "Trying to provoke me will get you nowhere child. If you want to get me to act then use that sword instead of waving it around like a shiny stick."

Adrya brought the sword into both hands and pointed the tip at the sky. The high elf responded by standing up on his own legs and casting aside his cane. At his full height she realised he was at least a full head and half taller than her.

She had to think. There was no way running in screaming and swinging would get her anything else than an early grave. Her Gift was out due to the strain on her small mana pool and her arm. Shifting was a possibility but she really didn't want have to explain that to the crewmen on her ship. Her throat was far too dry to Shout and she doubted that Aredlin would be intimated by a poorly thrown dagger. Her skills in mental domination were limited to say the least and if she tried she doubted it would take less than a heartbeat for him to dominate her in return. She just didn't have any options, she was out armed, out magicked and out manned…

Her head snapped to the side and saw the nord was still on combat with Dreslinal. Even without her Gift she could see that the nord was not faring well. But if it was two against one…

Adrya dashed to the side and tightened her grip on Takk. She heard Aredlin laugh as she moved away. He must have thought she was scared of him. Which she was, but not for the reasons he thought. She had faced mages; she had beaten mages. Magic was not that much of an issue as along as she kept moving and closed the distance as fast as possible.

She moved quickly and kept low as she gained on the armoured mace wielder. The nord had noticed her coming and was moving to the other side of Dreslinal. The glass clad one seemed to not to have noticed her, but he hadn't opened his flank either. As she got closer she brought Takk back over her head swung it in a wide arc towards Dreslinal. She knew it was predictable but she needed the mace wielder to respond to her.

Which he did with force.

His mace flashed up and knocked Takk to the side with ease, the black giant not turning from the nord that was bearing down on him from the other side. She saw the nord swing while his mace was holding Takk. Dreslinal caught the plain blade in his grasp. She squinted instinctively as sparks flew and a loud screech was heard as the blade slid to a halt.

Adrya didn't let her chance got to waste. This might be the best she would get. One hand occupied, the other still going back after it had hit her blade. She doubted she could cut through the armour and there wasn't a good weak spot available like the neck, but she could see a gap in the armour by the thigh. If she cut there then the armoured giant might start to slow down. She doubted they had the time to bleed him out, but with a wound to the leg his movement would be restricted and more strikes would become easier.

She twisted her grip on Takk and turned the blade back and thrust downward to the gap in the armour.

As fast as she had turned her sword around, Dreslinal's other hand was down by his side, having dropped his mace. His armoured fingers wrapped round the blade. Now he held both blades in his grasp.

She immediately began to pull back, but soon discovered why the nord hadn't retrieved his blade yet. The strength of the black glass giant was well above what she expected. It took a few moments of thought before she realised her mistake. The armour he wore was obviously enchanted, anyone with a pair of eyes could tell from the way it reflected light. She only too late figured out what the enchantment was.

Strength enhancement.

Probably similar to her own suit. The suit that was currently in a box at the bottom of her deck.

She could tug and heave as much as she wanted but there was no way she was going to get the sword from the giant's grasp.

She felt her feet slide forward as she struggled to hold on the sword. She saw the nord on the other side of the ebony one started to do the same. His face holding the same expression of dread that she presumed hers was.

His eyes caught hers and she felt her heart stop not for the same reason as before. No; this time it was because she saw an expression the nord's eyes that made her want to scurry back in fear. She nearly let go of the sword as she recoiled from the look on his face.

His eyes flared with excitement. His face pulled into a broad smile. She could find no trace of the fear that had been in his face mere moments before, now the only thing left was a strange happiness to be in a fight. He must have been mad, his mind warped and broken by the fear pushing down on him.

Their weapons were in the hands of a thing that could snap their unarmoured bodies with ease if given the chance. She doubted Aredlin would be amused for long before simply cooking them alive. And she doubted even Tio would be able fight the two of them off with ease with their armour and wards.

Adrya found herself smiling back. She hadn't had so much fun in a long time.

As soon as the grin covered her face, she felt the dread leave her in a wave. She expected her ring to the source of her clear mind, but was surprised that it was not the ring. Something had just drained her off all the fear that had been covering her.

"I am but the Link between Man and God."

Adrya was brought out of her confusion when she heard the nord speak. The phrase sounded practised and she could tell it held significance, but it took her hungover mind to realise what it meant.

By that time the nord was already glowing.

Bright golden light seemed to rise like mist from the nord and then began to condense into solid light. The process took less than a second but it seemed to stretch for an eternity as she was transfixed by the glorious light that sifted and moved as it formed a suit of resplendent golden armour.


End file.
